Lies
by M. Michelon
Summary: Lemons are sweet like honey. Life is always fair. People are never selfish. I'm okay if he doesn't care. I have to repeat these words to myself every day, because if I do, one day these lies will become truths. If I just say them enough, Quil will never know the truth. Right?
1. Preface

**Author's Note: Yay for a new story...? I am going to put this out there to see what you all think. This is supposed to be a ****_short_**** story. God only knows what that means when you're talking about me, since I clearly like to write long stories. Anyways, there won't be much in terms of supernatural drama. Think of it more as a coming of age story set thirteen years after the end of ****_Breaking Dawn_****. I hope you all enjoy!**

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**Preface**

My first memory of him, I was four. I had decided that I was big enough to climb the pine tree in my backyard. My short little legs had taken me up higher than I could reach. See, I could jump and make it to the next ranch, hoist myself up. I was an adventurous little kid. But when it came time to crawl down, those leaps and bounds I'd taken only made me fall. I remember dropping through the air, feeling as if I was weightless while I screamed. There was no catching myself, only scrapes and scratches. Until he caught me.

I'd known him for as long as I could remember. He'd been a part of my life forever. My parents said that he was my destiny. They said that one day, we would get to be together forever. When I was younger, that seemed so silly. How could two people be together forever? But Quil was always there when I needed him to be. He seemed to have a sense about when I was upset or hurt. While my other friends hung out with each other, I spent most of my summers in La Push, with him.

As I started getting older, things started to change. I found out later that my parents had expected all along that something would happen with us. But when I was in high school, being picked up from my first day by my best friend, I realized what he looked like to everyone else. Every other fourteen-year-old girl saw his muscles, his chiseled features, his cropped hair, his easy smile. They didn't know that he was afraid of spiders. They didn't know that his favorite color was orange because it reminded him of tic-tacs.

They couldn't know these things, though. These were the things that only _I_ knew about Quil. By the time that I was sixteen, learning how to drive behind the wheel of his car, I realized that I was in love with him. How could I not be. From the first time that he'd caught me falling out of a tree, he'd always been there for me. Probably from before that first time. He'd been around forever. He was funny and sweet and kind. And incredibly good looking. How could I _not_ fall in love with him?

It seemed like the next step in our relationship. Quil had stopped aging when he first phased. I knew about the wolves. I'd been told about them from before I could remember. Every once in a while, when something bad was happening, I could tell that he was becoming overprotective. I knew that I was an imprint, too. But he'd always told me that I was just his best friend. "It means that we're going to be best friends forever, Claire-Bear," he'd told me back when I was only seven. And when you're seven, BFFs was the greatest thing in the world.

I gathered that my parents knew about the wolves as well. At least, to some extent. They had no problems with the fact that he never aged. They had no problems when he wanted to take me out of town. The only time that I remembered them being upset was back during the kidnapping when I was only nine or ten. I couldn't remember exactly. If I hadn't gotten sick afterwards, I doubted that they would have let him come back. But being apart from him was terrible. It was like I was suffocating, drowning, and every time that I was about to die, someone brought me back.

I'd like to say that love came slowly. I mean, in truth, I'd always loved him in some way or another. He was my friend, my diary, the person that I could count on to stop all the bad stuff from happening. So, maybe our love did come slowly. But it hit me like a ton of bricks. One day, he'd dropped me off at my house and told me to be safe. Then next day, I'd woken up thinking about Quil and our plan for the day and it hit me that I was in love him.

I should've seen it coming. At first, I tried to tell myself that it was just because I was that age. I was, after all, sixteen. Every sixteen-year-old girl, no matter her personality, dreamed about falling in love. I was no different. I wanted to get married and have kids. I wanted to meet my true love in while I was still in high school, just like my parents had. "I love him, Mom," I'd told her one day, sitting on her bed with my head in her lap. "He's never going to see me, though."

"Don't be silly, Claire," she laughed. "Quil is bound to see you one day or another. You just have to wait for it to happen." Patience had never been one of my virtues, though. "The imprint will change everything one day, Claire. You'll see." That was all that people kept telling me. One day, things would change. I would see. I would understand. It wouldn't take very long for everything to change. "It's the way that things are supposed to happen, Claire. We've all known that it would be like this." Except that I hadn't known what it would be like.

I hadn't known that I would fall like this. I hadn't known that one day, all the laughter and fun would change. "Are you okay?" Quil'd asked me one morning when taking me to school senior year. He made a point of either picking me up or taking me home every day. I had nodded, not wanting to have to explain my little crush. What girl wouldn't have a crush on him? Every girl at school looked at him when he dropped me off. They liked him because he was beautiful to look at. But me? I loved him because of all the things that I knew about him.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right Claire-Bear?" he'd asked. Claire-Bear. The name was like a slap in the face. Eighteen-years-old with the body of a full grown woman, and he still saw me as his Claire-Bear. I could do a fan-dance with a lettuce leaf and I doubt the boy would realize that I was completely in love him. "Claire?" he'd repeated when I hadn't answered.

"Of course, Quil," I replied. I leaned across the center console of his SUV and pressed my lips against his cheek. "I'll be out of school at three. But I have field hockey today," I reminded him. He nodded and opened his mouth, but I had to interrupt. "You cannot watch. Last time, you started growling when I took that fall." He narrowed his eyes.

I had gotten used to keeping his secret over the years. My friends who knew him knew only that he lived in La Push. They had no idea that he was a wolf or that he'd stopped aging when I was still a toddler. They had no idea that his idea of work was phasing into a wolf and running around the La Push Reservation to protect people from vampires. And they never would. "I'll see you after school," I'd said.

I had left the car then, plowing straight into Jenna while I was sprinting to get to my class. "Did you get lost in Quil-land for a little while?" she teased. I rolled my eyes. "You're early, calm down. You have enough time to go to your locker and everything." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Does he have any idea that you're in love with him?"  
"He's a boy, remember? He has no idea about anything. We've been best friends my whole life," I replied.

"And he just has no idea that you're in love with him?"  
"I'm not in love with him," I lied. "I care about him. I'll always care about him."

"So, if Diana Hannard wanted to start dating him…" She trailed off. I playfully punched my best friends shoulder. "I don't know why you lie to me. I know you better than anyone else." Except Quil. She would never know me as well as he did. No one would. "I'm your best friend."

"Second to him," I pointed out. She held a hand to her chest and gave a wounded gasp. I rolled my eyes. "And don't feel special, Jen; I lie to everyone." That was the one truth that I gave. I said it whenever the moment called for it. It was the one truthful thing that I could say. "Even myself," I sighed under my breath.

I was probably the person that I lied to the most. I told myself that I was okay with just being his friend. I told myself that I would be happy if I could spend the rest of my life being his best friend. I might as well be telling myself that lemons were sweet. That life is fair. That money is purple. That's all my words to myself were: lies.


	2. Chapter I

**Author's Note: There is a song behind the title, although it doesn't fit perfectly. If you're interested, review or PM and I can send it out. I don't want to bother people if it's not something they're interested in. If you don't read my other stories, I'll just get this out of the way now. My world of ****_Twilight_**** is a little different. Things didn't work out like they did in the books. This story can be read independently of the other eight that are in existence, however it might make things a little clearer if you read the other (just a selfish, self-promotional suggestion). Any characters that aren't recognizable are more than likely my own. Other than that, there's my little rant. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter I**

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Auntie," I said to her. I was hanging on her couch, holding a rollie-pollie Adam on my stomach. "He doesn't even seem to look my way. I mean, yeah, he cares. But he has to. That's the imprint," I grumbled. "Ever since I was a baby, everyone told me that I would end up with Quil. Everyone _except_ Quil. In all the years that I've known him, he's never said anything about it. Only that he would be my best friend forever."

"And he will be," my Aunt Emily promised. My aunt Emily was on of the imprints in the Pack. When I was younger, I'd call them all Auntie and Uncle. Now, at almost eighteen-years-old, I had earned the privilege of calling them by their first names and nothing more. Which was good, because there were too many of them to keep track of most days. "Could you imagine looking at that baby and telling him that you're going to be in love with him one day?" I shook my head. "That's what Quil had to go through. You weren't much older than Adam."

"Fine, fine," I said. "When I was little, I get it. But when everyone else started getting married? When you and Sam had SJ? Why wouldn't he tell me then?" She opened her mouth, probably the wolf that held my heart in his hands. "Because he doesn't want it, Auntie. He doesn't want to be stuck with a little kid the rest of his life. Look at his friends. Ryanne and Jake have their own kids. Jared and Kim, Leah and Nate, Paul and Charlie, Embry and Penn, Seth and Tucker, Collin and Spencer! Hell, Brady and Roxanne had an arranged marriage!"

"Watch your language around the baby," she chastised. Adam gave me a toothy grin when I looked back at him, as if he didn't care one way or another what I said to him. "I know that Quil loves you, Claire. But sweetheart," she left her kitchen, which was a rare occurrence in itself, and settled beside me on the couch. "For a long time, Quil has had to see you as his baby sister or his best friend. The rest of the wolves haven't had those problems. I mean, everyone had problems, but not the fifteen year age gap." I sighed. "Just give it time, Claire. Things will work."

But I didn't want to give it time. I wanted Quil to look at me and realize that I wasn't a toddler anymore. "I'm going over to Ryanne's," I said. I touched the tip of Adam's nose and set him down in his playpen for safe fun. At least there was one good thing that came from being the baby imprint in the Pack. By the time that I had my own children, preferably with Quil, I would know exactly how to be a parent. There were so many kids, we could form our own tribe.

Ryanne and Jake had moved back in with Billy Black a few years ago, after Rebecca had met Nate's brother Scott. Apparently, the two had fallen madly in love. So Ryanne and Jake switched houses and moved back with his father. Billy Black, who had always been a figurehead in my life, was older now. His hair was almost all silver, kind of like Quil's grandfather's. Amazingly, _that_ old man was still alive. I'd known him my whole life, but hadn't truly expected the man to make it to my eighteenth birthday.

"Come on in, Claire," Jake called. Their little Sarah, now seven, scurried to the front door and practically tackled me to the ground. Amber, who was their next little one, followed her sister. And two-year-old Willy, as they called him to avoid confusion with his namesake, was sitting happily on the rug in the living room, eating his fist. "Since you're rarely here to see me," he sighed wistfully, "Ryanne's in the bedroom folding laundry away from the monsters." He playfully ruffled his daughter's hair. Sarah ducked away from him and glared at her father.

I walked down the hall, saddened again. I wanted this life. I wanted Sarah or Lizzie or any of the other daughters to come to my house, to see me with my happy husband and family, and know that I would give them advice that was better than to wait. I flopped down on Ryanne's large bed, the mattress not even shifting. I wondered, absently, if Quil's bed would be big enough for the two of us. "Well that's a depressed face if ever I've seen one," my pale-faced aunt said. She was one of two non-Native imprints to join the Pack, although she was the second imprint of everyone. "What's on your mind, Claire-Bear?"  
I groaned. "I really wish that everyone would stop calling me that." I pulled one of the pillows from the bed and pressed it over my mouth. I gave a scream that was muffled by the feathers and then put it on the bed again. My shoulders sagged as I stared at the stupid shapes on the ceiling. "I'm not a little girl anymore. Maybe if you all stopped treating me like one, everything would be okay," I muttered, screaming into the pillow once again.

"Yeah," she hissed. She tugged the pillow from my grasp. "I'll put this in the washer," she said, holding the pillow away from her like it was a burning cat. "Now, what's the all about, Claire? You know that none of us think of you like a little kid. You're eighteen now." She tossed the pillow into an empty laundry basket. "By the time I was eighteen — You know what, scratch that. I'll save you that speech. Mostly because it makes me feel old." I laughed at her. "And your parents would kill me," she added. I nodded at that.

"I'm serious, Ryanne. I love him and I want him to be in love with me too. But every time that he looks at me, he sees the toddler that he's been saddled with for fifteen years!" I reached for another pillow, but Ryanne pulled them all from my reach before I could. I sighed, exasperated. "Sorry. I just want him to see me as an adult now." She nodded and tossed her pillows back on the bed. "I went and talk to Aunt Emily, but she just suggested that I wait. _It'll happen eventually_," I mocked.

"And you don't want to wait?"  
"Did you want to wait for Jake to fall in love with you?" I retorted.

"Sweetie, I waited my whole life _and_ let him fall in with my sister, remember?" I sighed again. I didn't want to wait anymore. "Okay, you have a few options here. I can talk to Jake and have him tell Quil that you want a real relationship." I gaped at her. "I, personally, wouldn't do that. You don't want him to think that he _has_ to stop seeing you as a little girl."

"Right," I agreed, although I did want that. "Why don't we want that?" I asked naively.

"Claire, you don't want Quil to forget all the memories you two have," she said like this was the simplest thing in the world. "You just want him to see that little Claire has grown up." She looked over me with a discerning eye. "We could get you a different wardrobe," she suggested. I looked down at my baggy sweatshirt, that had once been Quil's, and even baggier sweatpants. "I'm not saying that you have to change completely, but you could show him that a girl who has _curves_ is swimming under that fabric." I bit my lip. "And then we get you a boyfriend."

"I think you missed the part of the conversation where I said I'm in love with Quil," I said slowly, confusion narrowing my eyes.

"Have you dated anyone before?" she asked.

"Of course not."

"Why not?"

"Because Quil —"

"Exactly. You've never given him a real reason to see you as anything other than little Claire," she explained. She threw her arms up in the air then and sank down on the bed beside me, our shoulders touching. Her dark, curly hair flopped over my own, the textures so close to each other, you almost couldn't tell the difference. "I really hope my daughters don't have to deal with boys… ever," she said. "They're just a royal pain in your side."

"Who's a pain?" Jake asked, appearing in the doorway. He held little Will in his arms, the two of them a matched pair.

"You," she said. "Not the baby." She rose and took her son in her arms. "When they're this age, they're manageable. All they want to eat and sleep and maybe a little cuddle, right Will?" she asked him.

"That's all I want," Jake assured her. "Although my idea of cuddling and his idea might not be the same."

"See Claire?" she said, even as she brushed a kiss on her husband's lips. "A total pain."


	3. Chapter II

**Author's Note: Here's the next chapter. Sorry about the lateness, but they're up. Enjoy!**

**Chapter II**

"I have to go over to Leah's for girl's night. Do you want to come?" Ryanne invited. I nodded. "Jake, you're on baby duty." I laughed at her as she kissed her daughter's heads and pinched her son's cheeks. "Embry will be over to trade you Emmy for Amber," she added. Penn and Embry's kids had formed a strong bond with Jake and Ryanne's. Embry Jr., or Emmy to the rest of us, was Will's best friend. Little Amber, though a few years younger than the other girl, was Lizzie's best friend. Most days, it seemed like Emmy belonged to the Black family and Amber to the Calls.

Leah and Nate had more kids that I could really keep track of. They did only have one little girl, named for her grandmothers. I pitied the girl, really. Between her father, brothers, uncles, and cousins, she was likely to never get a date. Of course, I supposed that would be the norm for all the daughters. There were so many children and they'd all grown up so close together. In all honesty, I was waiting for the day that two fell in love. It was sure to be an interesting argument.

"Emily's not coming," Leah called when Ryanne walked into the house. We never knocked. Occasionally, we would announce ourselves. Each house had its own life and flavor to it, but every single Pack member's house was just like another home for me. Leah would assume that whoever was walking in was friend. And since she was a wolf as well, she would probably sniff the air and make sure that everything was okay. "Penn's running a little late. Emmy didn't want her to go and didn't understand that she couldn't take her. Oh, and Rye, Nate's heading to your place."

I sat down on the yellow sofa with a sigh, wishing that there was some chocolate in the room. Tucker settled next to me, bumping into me with her arm. "What's eating you?" she asked, handing me a sandwich from the table. "You look like someone ran over you cat."

"We're dog people around here," I stage-whispered. She laughed at that. "And if someone ran over him, it would probably end my confusion," I admitted. That seemed to grab everyone's attention instantly. Leah carried the tray of coffee creamers and sugars to the table and set it down while Ryanne brought the coffee over.

"Well, that sounds interesting," Leah said. "What'd he do now?" I opened my mouth to tell her, but she waved a hand at me. "No, no; don't tell me. I want to guess. Guys are pretty predictable." I sat back, munching on the turkey and bread. Spencer settled in alongside me. Roxanne found space on the arm of the couch beside Tucker. "We don't sit on the arm of the couch," Leah snapped. Roxie slid onto the couch almost instantly. Kim appeared from the bathroom and sank down onto the ottoman, above where Charlie was sitting on the ground.

"He… embarrassed you in front of all your friends?" Leah guessed. I shook my head.

"He picked you up from school while he was shirtless?" Kim tried then. "We all remember _that_ conversation."

"I'd just like to point out that I wouldn't have minded being picked up from high school by a shirtless guy. Especially if they look like our guys," Tucker said. All of us laughed at that. "Okay, okay. My turn. I'm going to guess that he made you do the dishes." It was a well known fact that I hated the dishes. I had a tendency to treat them like they were demons set down to torture me. I shook my head again.

_"Did he fart while you two were in the car?"_ Charlotte signed. If we hadn't already been laughing about Tucker's comment about shirtless boys, we certainly were dying now. _"Paul did that one time. I made him sleep in a tent in the backyard for a week."_

"He phased, didn't he?" Ryanne guessed.

_"Of course. He said it was the same thing as camping. He just had fur instead of a sleeping bag."_ I shook my head at her suggestion.

"Like he would need a sleeping bag," Spencer inserted. All of us nodded.

"None of you are going to guess it," Ryanne inserted.

"Did he get handsy with you? Because you just tell we'll chop it off," Roxanne said. At that, my eyes actually started to fill with tears. Him being too hands-on was definitely not my problem. "She's crying. That's got to be it. I win!" she shouted triumphantly. I shook my head. "I've got a good saw at the house. We could chop his hand off tonight.

"Quil isn't being overly affectionate," Ryanne finally jumped in and saved me. "He's too damn stupid to realize that his little Claire-Bear is almost eighteen."

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Penn said. "I brought Ghiradelly's." I dove for the bag before she was fully in the house. "Someone's in a mood. Should I go back and buy more?"

"I think we'll just have to forfeit our shares to our dear Claire, tonight," Leah said. "She's not in a mood. She's just, uh, having a bad day."

"More like a bad three years," I corrected. "You guys have always said that he would fall in love with me eventually. That's the way the imprint is supposed to work He's supposed to be whatever I need him to be. I don't need a best friend anymore. And I have already have a brother, not that Chance could ever replace Quil for me. I want him to fall in love with me. I _need_ to know that he actually wants this."

"Claire, he's been waiting for _years_ to fall in love with you," Kim said sweetly. "He wouldn't want to rush you now."

"_Not_ rushing me is not the problem here."

"Okay, okay," Penn said. "We get it. You want to fall in love and live the happily ever after you were promised."

"I suggested that she date other people," Ryanne said. I frowned again. I still didn't like that idea. "No one's saying that it has to be a serious thing. He just needs to realize that you're not going to be a little girl forever," she repeated.

"You don't even have to go on a date," Penn perked up again. She smashed herself between Leah and Ryanne on the little settee. "You're in high school; there's got to be a school dance coming up soon." I nodded, thinking of winter formal. It was supposed to be the highlight of the year for seniors. "Go to the dance. Go with your friends and have fun. Dress up and get ready for the it. Show him that you're not a little girl without making yourself feel like you're betraying him."

"We'll find you a scandalous dress," Tucker said.

"I don't want scandalous. I'm not that girl," I giggled, blushing furiously.

"Knock knock," a voice called. My heart stuttered, like it always did with him nearby. "I'm coming in, so don't kill me." As was our normal joke, all of us grabbed a knife from the table and held them like weapons. Well, every except me. I could never bring myself to pretend to threaten the guy that I loved. He laughed and rolled his eyes. "I'm sure the rest of you want to talk about mommy issues and your husbands. So if you don't mind, I think I'll steal my Claire-Bear now." I felt my shoulders slump a little. Still Claire-Bear. Always Claire-Bear.

"She's eighteen, stupid," Leah said, flicking a grape at him. "I don't think she's going to be a infant forever."

"I know that," he replied. "Claire, are you ready to leave?" I nodded. He held out his hand to me, which I eagerly reached forward and grabbed. I felt that instant sense of rightness, that zing that reminded me that I was in the right place. Goosebumps prickled at my skin and I sighed. I liked this. I loved him. "Goodbye, girls," he said with a smile. I didn't skip alongside him as I had when I was a little girl. I walked amiably now. "You look upset," he muttered when we weren't too far from his home in the woods.

"You mean I _smell_ upset," I replied. "I know that you can smell it. You've always been able to," I muttered.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he asked me. I shook my head. "Come on. Do I have to entice you with ice cream? That worked when you were a little kid. Actually, you know what worked better? When I bought you that stuffed wolf," he said. I let my head hang low. I was still his little Claire. Still the little kid that could be bribed with sugar and stuffed animals. "Come on, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," I lied.


	4. Chapter III

**Author's Note: I've come to the conclusion that I like to write far too much (wistful sigh). I should probably put an end to it soon... But I probably won't. Anyways, ignore my little ramble and enjoy the chapter!**

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**Chapter III:****_ Quil's Point of View_**

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" I asked. She tilted her chin up and shook her head. She'd always been a stubborn kid. "Come on," I pleaded. "Do I have to entice you with ice cream?" I expected to see that smile play at her lips. She could take her lip between her teeth and her eyes would widen with pleasure. But she didn't. "That worked when you were a little kid. Actually, you know what worked better? When I bought you that stuffed wolf." She gave a breathless scoff. I don't think she realized that she was shaking her head. "Come on, tell me what's wrong," I begged.

"Nothing." She turned towards me with a bright smile, one that quickly erased all my fears. She was okay. She'd just needed a little time to gather her thoughts. While I still wanted her to tell me what was going on, she seemed to be okay. "Nothing that hanging out with you can't fix," she amended. I smiled at that. She'd always loved to hang around with me. From the time that I'd first imprinted on her.

It was almost hard to believe that it'd been fifteen years since then. If I looked carefully, I could still see my little Claire-Bear. In her eyes, especially. Her skin was still the same creamy color that it had always been. She'd never been quite as dark as everyone else that I knew. Her mother always said that somewhere down their lineage, there must be some pale-face blood. It didn't really matter, though. She looked like a porcelain doll, except her cheeks weren't that unnatural rose color. Her lips, however, were naturally stained ruby red. But when she was little, she was so round she looked like one of those stuffed bears.

"How was work yesterday?" I finally asked, fairly certain that I could get her to tell me what had gone on to make her so upset. She shrugged, which was most definitely unlike my little Claire. She'd been the most expressive person that I'd ever known from the time that she was little. She'd never been able to hide anything from me. "Claire, if you don't tell me what's wrong, I'll have to use persuasive methods to get it out of you." Her eyes lit like she was intrigued by the idea. "Are you going to tell me?" She shook her head.

I pulled her to the ground, ignoring her complaints about dirt in her hair. Her hair _did_ rival Ryanne's for curliness. I remembered countless hours spent brushing her hair, brushing the endless tangles from her curls. I gathered her wrists in one hand and pinned them over her head. I started slowly, at her armpits. I tickled her until she was shouting my name and then moved down her sides until she was breathlessly gasping for air. I pinned her thighs together between my knees and settled over her.

Her eyes were bright with laughter, an alluring light gleaming in her eyes. Her chest was heaving between us, pressing up against me every time that she took in some air. "Tell me what's wrong, Claire-Bear," I insisted. Just like that, the light vanished from her eyes. She tugged her hands from my grasp quickly and sighed. "Please, Claire. I just want to help you," I promised her. "You know you can tell me anything. Come on, we're best friends." She licked her lips. They'd gotten so much fuller in the last five years or so.

She pulled away and stood up quickly. "I was thinking about going into the city," she said slowly. She hated the city. The farthest that she went was into Forks to take her shift at her parents' ice rink. "Jenna wants to go to this stupid dance." That would be what was bothering her. Claire hated dances and things like that. She'd told me; they weren't as fun because I couldn't be there. But she wouldn't want to disappoint Jenna. Jenna was her _second_ best friend. "She wants to go to the formal. I just… I have nothing to wear. So I was thinking about going into the city. Except you know how difficult my parents have been since the newborn war way back when." She shook her head. "I don't even remember if, but they still won't let me go over there by myself. Where else am I supposed to find a damn dress?" she rambled.

"Okay, calm down," I said, coming to stand behind her. "I'll take you into the city next weekend. How's that?" She bit her lip a little. "I'll talk to your mother when I take you home Sunday night, okay? I'm sure that he won't mind it if we go." Claire nodded.

"Can I spend the night at your house?" she begged. "It's only a Saturday. Please!" She pouted her lower lip in a way that I couldn't resist. I rolled my eyes and finally nodded. She beamed at me. "I know you have patrol, so I will head over to your house and straighten things up for a little while. I'll see you tonight." She bounced forward, happier than I'd see her all day. She braced herself on my shoulders and reached up to kiss my cheek. "Love you!" she shouted over her shoulder as she trotted away.

I walked deeper into the forest, where I could be certain that no one was going to see me. I phased then, surprised to find a voice in my head for the first time in a very long time. Most of the guys had stopped phasing, with the exception of our run night. We only did it a few times a year. But everyone else had imprints. Everyone else had fallen in love and was either married and having kids, or on their way to being married. I was the only one left who didn't have their person.

Well, I did have a person. I just wasn't married to her yet. She'd known her whole life that she would end up with me. Everyone had told her so. Everyone except for me. I didn't want my little Claire to think that she had no choice in all of this. She did. She could decide that she didn't want me. Maybe she thought it was weird that i was so much older than her. And that I didn't age. Who knew? But I knew that I wasn't going to be the one to take it away from her. Claire would get to make her own choices in her life, regardless of the what the Spirits said. Claire was more important to me than whatever destiny the Spirits had given to me.

_How's Claire?_ Paul's voice asked.

_Fine. Just being her regular old self._

_So the two of you aren't getting married yet?_

_She's eighteen, Paul!_ I snapped. _She's a little kid. Would you want Nina to be getting married eighteen?_

_Nina's not someone imprint, you idgit._

_Claire is still a little kid. Still _**_my_**_ little Claire,_ I said forcefully. _What are you doing out here anyways?_ I demanded.

_Let's get a few things straight. One: Claire's not a little kid anymore. She's eighteen. And if you don't start realizing that, you're going to lose her._

_I'm not going to lose her. She hasn't even graduated high school yet. _

_Half of us were married or engaged when we were her age,_ Paul pointed out fairly. _Embry's watching all the little minions at his place. I needed a few minutes to blow off some steam. Charlie and I got into it about stuff with Nina._

_Okay, well I use my patrol time as a time to think. So if you don't mind, _**_shut up_**.

_Is it really so terrible to think of her as a grown up, man? She's not a toddler any more. I don't know where you're brain is, but she has a _**_couple_**_ of things that are proof she's grown up._

_Goodbye, Paul,_ I muttered.

It wasn't like I hadn't noticed the young woman that Claire had become. It was hard not to. Her years of field hockey had helped her immensely when it came to keeping in shape. She was beautiful. Everything about her was perfect. But she wasn't ready. She hid herself under clothes that were far to large for her. In a lot of ways, she still acted like my little Claire-Bear. She laughed and smiled like nothing was different about us. So she clearly wasn't ready. The last thing that I could ever do was force her.

Things could happen whenever she wanted them to. Not a minute before. She technically wasn't even eighteen, yet. Her birthday wasn't for another few days. I was well aware, since I still hadn't finished getting all of her stuff together for her. She was still just a little kid. She was still my little Claire-Bear.


	5. Chapter IV

**Author's Note: I fully intended to have chapters up yesterday... And then my fiancé walked in and found me sleeping on the couch with my computer on my chest. Sorry about that. Sleep was needed. Anyways, enjoy!**

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**Chapter IV**

Change the way that I was dressing. That was what Ryanne had said. She'd told me to start wearing clothes that show that I have more of a shape than I usually showed. I paced Quil's bathroom cautiously, my arms crossed over my chest. I had to start seriously showing him what I wanted. I refused to be the one to start it all. I needed to make sure that this was what he wanted, while showing him just how desperately I wanted _him_. "Which means that I have to stop being so shy," I whispered to myself.

Normally, I would wear one of Quil's old t-shirts and some shorts to bed. But if what Ryanne said was true, and this could possibly work, I would have to change what I wanted to wear. I pulled the camisole over my head, feeling like I was wearing a second skin. The only item of clothing I wore this tight was my sports bra and spandex that I wore for field hockey. And I had something over those. "Grow up, Claire," I snarled angrily at myself. "You won't get him to fall in love with you if you still dress like a child."

My shorts were a little baggy, which was okay. It would take some comfort for me to be able to sleep comfortably tonight. I took my clothes from the ground and folded them, placing them in my drawer in his bedroom. One day, I would have more than just a drawer if I had anything to say about it. Before I could look at myself in the mirror again, I exited the bedroom and headed to the kitchen. I could get something together for dinner while I waited for him to come home.

It became apparent that he'd decided to run late that night. I piled the food on his plate, at the little that I felt hungry for, and took myself off into bed. I curled up with his pillow and rested myself on his side of the bed. He would move me over when he got into the house. And then it would be time to put the next phase of my place into action. Provided that I had the gumption, of course. No; I _would_ have the gumption. I may be sweet and innocent, but I was also determined. I would win out.

A few hours later, I awoke to the sound of sheets rustling beside me. I groaned and turned over to look at him. "I got caught up," he said by way of apology. "Dinner was delicious." I smiled groggily. "What's wrong?" he asked then. There was my window.

"I couldn't find your shirts because they're in the laundry," I whispered. "So I'm just a little cold tonight." As I hoped, he put his arms around me and pulled me against his chest. I rested my head on his shoulder and my hand against his bare chest.

Holding him like that felt good, almost wifely. I could imagine doing this for years and years to come. Maybe having a kid between us at one point, snuggling against his father. "Next time, just grab something from my drawer, Claire. You're like a popsicle."

"If someone had been home on time," I mumbled under my breath. He chuckled a little. I pressed my frigid toes against his calf.

"You are frozen, little one," he muttered. I ignored the endearment that I'd once loved. I focused instead on the feel of his arms around me and how he pulled me a little closer. "Go to sleep, Claire."

The next morning, I opened my eyes to find Quil still asleep. He was still holding me tight to his chest, his hand fitted to my waist, his bicep pillowing my head. I didn't feel the least bit cold now. "I wanted to go to the city today," I whispered. I knew he was awake now. His heart was beating too quickly under my hand for him to be asleep. "It is is the end of November," I pointed out. "The dance is going to be on the third. That means we have two weeks."

"Don't you ever relax?" he asked me. I shook my head with a smile. He groaned and opened his eyes to look down at me. His eyes held such affection, so much love. For me. Except that it wasn't the kid of love that I wanted. I wanted more than sisterly companionship.

"Why don't I go and get us some breakfast started?" I suggested. "You worked late last night. You can sleep in a little bit." He nodded sleepily. I kissed his cheek, whispered good morning, and slipped from the bed. I liked the way that Quil had to rearrange his position since i wasn't there. It was a reminder that he was supposed to have me in that bed.

Knowing that i was hoping to put him through hell, I decided that the least I could do was make him his favorite breakfast. If I had anything to do with it, he'd realize today that I wasn't a kid anymore. Strapless dresser, ruffles, things that would draw attention to me would undoubtedly make him see that. "No wonder you were cold last night," he commented an hour or so later. I frowned at him. "You might as well be naked."

He looked wide-eyed, though. Like he was shocked that I'd pulled on a camisole ad some boxer shorts instead of my usual ensemble. I decided that it was a good sign. At least his shock meant that he was seeing me. "Breakfast burritos?" he asked, picking up one of the tortilla wraps. I nodded. "The last time you tried to make these when I was still asleep, I thought you were going to burn your entire leg. You spilled that pan with all that bacon in on it yourself, remember?" I nodded. He took a big bite, encompassing half the wrap.

"The good news is that I'm not a thirteen-year-old trying to impress you anymore," I replied with an easy, well-practiced smile. "I learned how to make bacon and the rest of it without killing myself."

"Good," he said around his mouthful of food. "I don't know how I'd survive if my Claire ever died." My smile brightened just a little bit. At least he didn't call me little this time. That _had _to be progress of some kind. "I texted your mom. Told her we were going into the city today."

"She gave me permission to ditch school tomorrow didn't she?" He nodded. My mother was, in her own strange way, attempting to be helpful. She was trying to use whatever time Quil and I got _alone_ together to my advantage. At least, for the meantime. She'd made it clear that once I had him wrapped around my finger and in love with me, she would have to put to boundaries of propriety in place. Any time that I spent a weekend in La Push, which was most every weekend, she offered to let me skip school on Monday to stay the extra day with him.

"I don't have anything going on tomorrow," I whispered. "Maybe after we go shopping we could hang out in the city. I've been thinking… I need some new jeans and shirts and stuff like that," I explained brokenly. Ryanne had said to buy things that fit. That was what I was going to have to do. Maybe add some of the sparkles that would draw his attention. I was up for anything really. "Do you have patrol or anything tomorrow?" I asked, hopefully. He shook his head. "So we can enjoy a day together?" I asked hopefully.

"Not in the city; I hate the city," he complained. "But we can hang out here in La Push and Forks. Just the two of us, okay?" I nodded with a smile. "I just have to spend the day shopping with you first." His voice and eyes dimmed a little at that. I laughed.

"Of all the things I've ever made you do, _shopping_ is going to be the one that you're most upset about?" I asked. I had done countless things to this man, the least of which was painting his toes Barbie hot pink. "All you have to do is sit in one of those chairs and tell me whether or not I look nice in the new things I want to buy."

"You look nice in the things that you own, Claire," he said with a frown. But I didn't look nice enough to attracting his attentions, so clearly what I was doing wasn't working. "But I guess if you want to buy new clothes," he shrugged. At least he wasn't going to fight me too much about this. "Are any more of those made?" he asked, looking around the kitchen. I rolled my eyes and pointed to the microwave. "You're the best, Claire-Bear."

While he couldn't see me, I frowned and glared at the pan that I was making more food in. I was going to change this or die trying.


	6. Chapter V

**Author's Note: Here it is, guys. For those who don't follow my other stories, I do ****_not_**** update on Sundays because I have homework and other wonderful things that need to get finished. Sorry if that's inconvenient for anyone, but unfortunately, I don't get paid to write all day. Would that I could. Anyways, enjoy!**

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**Chapter V**

I wore a pair of sweatpants and one of my t-shirts, trying to make the effort to wear tighter fighting clothes. Quil wasn't one who talked while driving since Jake's mother had died in a car accident when he was young. Usually, I listened to music and sang along with the stereo, but not today. No, today I was busy with my phone, texting all the girls. My mother and father had deposited my allowance into my account since I was a child, but I seldom had reason to use money.

Which meant that I was now going to be able to fund a complete wardrobe makeover. _Get yoga pants,_ Leah texted me back. _And leggings. They'll be like your sweatpants but show that you have legs_. I'd nodded. _If you're looking for something like your sweaters, try zip-up hoodies. They'll keep you warm, but they'll stick closer to your body, _Ryanne suggested next. Of course, both of them practically screamed for me _not to buy sports bras._ Like either one of them could say anything. I clearly remembered times that the both of them _lived_ in sports bras.

When we finally entered the mall, though, I began to question the idea of bringing Quil with me for this adventure. How was I supposed to trust myself to pick the right dress? There were aisles and aisles of dresses, hundreds of different colors, dozens of different fabrics. "Are you really sure that you want to start this, Claire?" he asked me, looking hesitantly at the lanes of clothes. I nodded. "What colors did you two decide on wearing then?" He had no way of knowing that I hadn't talked to my best friend yet. So I just scrunched my nose.

"We decided to get whatever colors look good on us. We don't want to go super matchy or people will tease us," I replied, thinking quickly. If anyone had given me that response, I wouldn't have believed them. But as was the norm with me, Quil believed without a second thought. I'd never given him cause to distrust me before. "Maybe we could start with the more simple things first," I suggested. "I need to get some new clothes for school and the likes," I explained. He seemed to calm down a little bit and nodded at me.

I couldn't think of a better way to show him that I was an adult than by taking him into Victoria's Secret. I only owned two bras, of the _not sports_ variety, least. I couldn't live in those two every day of my life. The good news was that I knew the exact size and style that suited me well. "What are we doing?" he demanded, drawing out the first word. We had been walking with my arm tucked into the crook of his. He stopped dead when we reached the threshold of the pink and lacy store. "Claire —"

"I just need a few things in here. I promise we'll be in and out in no time at all," I said. I gave his arm a tug before he could fight with me anymore and continued into the store. Quil looked from side to side, evidently thoroughly confused as to our purpose here. I licked my lips and hummed to myself, picking at each fingertip while we walked. "There's some seats over there if you want to go and sit down," I suggested. He nodded eagerly and practically raced for his seat. At least I was making him uncomfortable. We'd been comfortable for far too long.

I fingered the lace, the rhinestones, the shimmering satins. It all seemed so silly. I understood the desire to have nice things. And I was fairly certain that just seeing me buy things in this store would set Quil on edge. So, now I needed to buy something that was still going to be functional. While still getting Quil to notice. I picked up the nude lace bra. It would go under most anything, which was a good thing. And the lace would make certain that it didn't look completely plain. I picked up one in black as well before deciding to splurge and buy the color plaid one. Five bras would have to suffice.

Stooping, I grabbed the matching panties, and a few others I thought were cute, and turned to find Quil. "See? In and out," I said, hanging the to-be purchases over my arm. I watched with nothing short of satisfaction as he frowned at the lingerie in my hands. "We just have to head up front and buy this stuff and then we're on to the next store," I smiled innocently. He nodded stiffly and fit his hand to my lower back, steering me towards the front.

While the cashier and I laughed about boys in Victoria's Secret and the number of girl that brought there boyfriends in to help them shop, I saw Quil look around in confusion. I was fairly certain that I could hear him growling, too, but I couldn't be certain. When the girl finally handed over my bag, I turned to Quil. "Under Armour. Does that sound like a safer endeavor to you?" I teased. I'd be lying if I said that I had enjoyed every moment of his torture. Hopefully seeing me shop for underthings had opened his damn eyes.

He gave a heavenly sigh. "Under Armour sounds wonderful," he replied. I swallowed my laughter and let him guide me down to the next store, the pink bag swinging from my hand as we marched. He turned into the athletics store on yet another sigh, like he was exhaling all the femininity he'd just absorbed and inhaling the testosterone. I rolled my eyes at him and headed to the fitted pants and leggings. "Where are you going?" he asked, turning towards the sweatshirts that I usually purchased. I didn't answer, just continued sauntering towards the pants. "Claire?"

"I need some new things," I replied. "I'm just going to try things on to make sure that I have the right size." And hopefully let him see that I had legs to show off. Running for field hockey had toned my legs and created lean muscles. "I'll be right back." I jogged back to his side to had him the Victoria's Secret bag, which he took begrudgingly, and ran back to the dressing room with the pants and shirts. Quil knew that I hated shopping; it only made him all the more confused. I slid the smooth fabric up my legs, feeling them cling to the muscles.

"Hey Quil?" I called out. He hummed. "Can you take a look at these? I just want to know if I should get the next size smaller or not." The way that the pants shimmering fabric showed off my thens definitely said that I should stay with the medium. But what was the harm in making him look? In make him _notice_ for once? He called back that I could step out, but stopped dead the second that I came out. I had pulled on one of the "base-layer" shirts that people were supposed to wear underneath their clothing in the winter to keep them warm. "What do you think?"

He was looking at me in awe. I wondered, briefly, if I had actually succeeded in my task. Was he realizing now that I was a woman? Was he realizing now that I wasn't a little girl anymore. "I wouldn't buy—Stick with that size, Claire," he said, but he sounded a little different. Was his mouth dry? Was I really affecting him? God, I prayed so. "Did you want a new sweater?" he asked, holding the hoody in hand. I shook my head.

"I wanted to look at the zip-ups," I replied. I headed over to the sale area and tried on one or two of the jackets, making sure that they clung tighter than anything else that I owned. Once our purchases were made there, I suggested that we head to the next store. Old Navy. I was going to drive this boy crazy or die trying. "What's with the wardrobe update, Claire?" he asked between stores. We had decided that a coffee would be necessary, especially if he was to keep up the pace that we were going.

"I just wanted a change," I admitted. A change in _what_ would be the question. It wasn't just my clothing that I was hoping to change. I wanted him to notice. To see that I wasn't little Claire-Bear anymore. "Can I get a vente triple caramel latte?" I asked the barista. "Extra hot."

"When did you start getting triple shots?" he asked. Before I could respond, he was ordering his usually vente iced coffee, with milk and no sweetener.

"I've always ordered triples, Quil," I laughed. He frowned. "What's the look for?"

"Nothing; I just remember when you used to order hot chocolate instead of coffee."

"Yeah; things are changing, huh?" I practically begged.

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**Don't worry; Quil's perspective is up next on MONDAY. You'll find out what's going on in his head then. Enjoy!**


	7. Chapter VI

**Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoy! There's really not much more to say today. Happy Reading!**

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**Chapter VI:****_ Quil's Point of View_**

Claire had been relatively quiet during the drive, fiddling with her phone most of the time. I tried to find out more about whatever dress it was that she wanted, but she seemed a little stressed. The same feeling that I go when she began dragging me towards Victoria's Secret. "What are we doing?" I asked. She marched on with that happy smile. "Claire—"

"I just need a few things in here. I promise we'll be in and out in no time at all," she replied, pulling on my arm again. There was something almost _too_ personal about buying these things with her. But she had said that she needed to get some new things and I supposed this would have been one of those vague things that she hadn't mentioned. "There's some seats over there if you want to go and sit down," she said. I nodded, wishing that I could just leave the store and having nothing to do with it ever again.

It wasn't that I hadn't noticed that Claire was getting older. I did. But I also knew that if I over examined it, if I looked at the fact that she had become a stunningly beautiful young woman, I wouldn't be able to wait for her to be ready for me. So I hurried to the seats that we waiting, settling alongside the few other men that were there. One man sitting next to me looked old enough to be my father, but he clearly knew the drill. He'd rested his head against the wall, his eyes closed as if he was waiting for this to be over. I knew the feeling. I desperately wanted this to be over. "You'll get used to it," he said to me on a sigh. I detected an accent. "My wife and daughter could spend hours in here if I would let them." I nodded, praying that Claire would be as quick as she said she would. "Your girlfriend or wife?"

I looked over at where she was standing, looking through the drawers for whatever it was. I looked around, noticing that more than one man was staring at her. I growled when I noticed one guy eyeing her, hoping to find whatever girl he was with and telling her to get away from her. He stepped closer to Claire, but she didn't seem to notice. "Um, I'm here with my best friend. Her parents don't let her go into the city alone," I said, although it wasn't her parents. I wouldn't let her go into the city alone. I had been there, seen the aftermath of all the killings. I wouldn't risk her life. Anything could happen up here.

"Dude, you see that chick?" someone's voice carried over the crowd. My ears perked up immediately. I didn't care who they were talking about. I had practically raised Claire. I wasn't going to listen to some man talk about a girl that was someone's daughter, someone's best friend, someone's Claire. "Look at her ass."

"You know what they say about Native girls," another guy said. I quickly scanned the store, hoping that there were other girls there that looked Native. Claire barely even looked Native. Her skin was so much lighter than every one else's, but still darker than the average Washington resident's. The growl built in my throat. "This is why we come here. Hot girls buying bras, man." I could feel myself starting to tremble. Claire stood from her stooped position, still innocently smiling and headed back for me."

"See? In and out," she replied. I kept my gaze on her gaze to avoid staring at underwear and lacy bras hanging over her forearm. It was so… She seemed too little to be holding those things. "We just have to head up front and buy this stuff and then we're on to the next store." I only prayed that the next store could be something like an Old Navy or something. I just needed out of this store, away from these men before I started ripping heads off. Deafly, I heard Claire and the woman behind the counter talking about guys coming into the store.

"God damn, she's hot!" the same male voice said as I stood alongside my imprint.

I heard some girl scoff a few feet behind me. "Probably has to pay extra for bras that fit over those things," she muttered to the girlfriend standing beside her.

"Yeah, but her boyfriend's hot," another voice said.

"Probably a slut to keep that kind of guy." I tried to figure out where they were and how they were getting these kinds of ideas about my imprint. There was no guarantee that they were talking about her anyways. It didn't really know for certain. "You know what they say about Native boys." There was no other Native in this store, other than Claire.

"Under Armour," Claire said, the easy smile on her face pulling me out of my angry thoughts. "Does that sound like a safer endeavor to you?" Anything sounded better than being in this store, listening to talking to the perverts that were around us. She wasn't even an adult, yet. Her birthday was still days away.

"Under Armour sounds wonderful," I sighed. She stuck her hand in the bend of my arm and let me take her towards the sportswear store. I noticed the guys staring at her as she walked with ease through the mall. She seemed to be completely unaware of the stairs that were coming around her. I took deep breaths, as many as I could to keep myself calm. Who knew there were so many guys that were such assholes out there? She was still a kid. When we entered the store, though, I was able to breathe a little easier. I knew what she loved this brand and there sweatshirts. Besides, no one was going to be staring at her here. Guys were more concerned with buying their compression shirts to show off each ridge. "Where are you going?" I asked as Claire walked towards sweatpants. "Claire?"

"I need some new things," she stated like it was obvious. "I'm just going to try things on to make sure that i have the right size." She rarely bought pants here because they were so tight on her legs. At least, that's what she'd said ages ago when she'd tried on a pair of compression capris. I hadn't told her that they were compression, though. I assumed that she knew. "I'll be right back." She thrust the bag at me, the gold letters glittering in the light. She was really going to make me carry this damn thing? And why the hell were we here? Did she really need a brand new wardrobe? What she had was enough. "Hey Quil?"

"Yeah?" I called back quietly.

"Can you take a look at these? I just want to know if I should get the next size smaller or not." I had been playing this game with her since she was a little kid. Whenever she took me shopping, I had to pretend like I cared and make sure that she looked "good" in what she was wear. It was ridiculous. She looked good in anything.

"I'm coming," I replied. She stepped out from the curtain, wearing next to nothing. I mean, she was well covered, it was just less than what she normally wore. I could see the outline of her breasts, which I had rarely seen before. Her legs were outlined by the clingy fabric. I had a brief thought that few girls could actually pull that fabric off. it showed every line and crease and muscle.

"What do you think?" she asked innocently.

When had she grown up to become this? I mean, I knew that she was growing up, of course, but the girl in front of me looked nothing like the Claire-Bear that I had always known. I couldn't even see the traces of her anymore. It was like she was a different person. "I wouldn't buy," I began, but I couldn't manage to get the words out. She was getting so old, now. Emotion was closing my throat. Decision time was going to be upon us before I was really ready. "Stick with that size, Claire," I managed. She nodded and disappeared into the room again, returning in her own clothes. "Did you want a new sweater?" She shook her head.

"I just wanted to look at the zip-ups," she replied. I frowned a little, confused. But it was still something that she would wear.

But my Claire hated to shop. It was almost strange that she was deciding to buy all brand new clothes. I mean, she'd spent almost two hundred dollars in Victoria's Secret alone. "What's with the wardrobe update, Claire?" I asked her when we were standing in line at Starbucks.

"I just wanted a change," she said easily, but there was something off with her voice. This wasn't about changing her clothes. There was something deeper. I could feel it. She wanted things to be different. She ordered her drink, adding more caffeine than normal. "I've always ordered triples, Quil," she replied easily when I pointed it out. But I'd known her for fifteen years. She'd never ordered a triple shot a day in her life. "Let's head to Old Navy," she said after a few more cryptic statements. Something was going on with this girl. Thankfully, she knew her size. She just wanted to try on some different styles.

I took advantage of the moment to call Sam and talk to him. I couldn't risk causing Emily. The woman was busy with her own children and had a tendency to become too worried when I mentioned Claire. _"What can I do for you?"_ Sam asked immediately.

"Have you noticed anything different about Claire lately?" We didn't bother with pleasantries. He had kids to deal with and I only had a short amount of time.

_"Why? What's going on?"_

"She asked me to take her to the city. Now she's spending a fortune buying new clothes. I'm just wondering what's going on with her, that's all. She hates shopping. And she _hates_ spending money."

_"Sounds like she's trying to impress some guy," _Sam said. I frowned. _"You know, make her clothes a little more noticeable. She's getting to that age."_ But Claire… She was too little to be interested in guys. _"SJ, take that out of your mouth. I got to run man. I'll talk to you later."_

Claire was interested in a guy? Was that what all this was about?


	8. Chapter VII

**Author's Note: Okay, so the chapters are going to be late tonight, but they will be up. There will be some after midnight. Sorry guys! Enjoy!**

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**Chapter VII**

"Claire," Quil called into the dressing room. I stepped out, wishing that I'd taken off these damn pants. They were skinny leg jeans, which I'd never worn, and clung tightly to my thighs and even tighter to calves that had been built up from running. "I think you're going to rip the seams," he laughed when I stepped out. I frowned at him. Skinny jeans clearly weren't going to work for me. "What are we doing here?" he asked for the second time. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Your old age must be getting to you," I chuckled. "We're here because I want to buy some new clothes. It's senior year. It's time for me to get a wardrobe update and stop dressing like a little kid. I'm almost eighteen, after all," I pointed out. He frowned a little at my words. "Let me get out of these things and then I'll be ready to leave, okay?" I said. I had wanted him to feel uncomfortable, to know that I wasn't a little kid. But the look on his face said that he was more than uncomfortable. He looked…angry.

The last thing that I wanted was for him to be upset. I just wanted him to realize that I was an adult now, or at least growing up. I didn't want this, though. Keeping that fake smile on my face, I purchased the new jeans and tighter clinging shirts. Quil accepted the bag from the man as soon as I we were finished. I tucked myself into his side, the place where I longed to stay. "Claire?" I looked up at him. "You didn't get a dress for the dance." I just shrugged, starting to think that this whole idea was wrong.

Updating my clothing, trying to destroy our routine, yanking the veil from his eyes. Maybe it was all going to be too much. Could I risk pushing Quil away if all of this went south? "The whole reason that we're here is because you wanted to find a dress for this dance," he pressed. I shrugged. He frowned and pulled the two of us to a stop in the middle of the parking garage. "You're not telling me something, Claire. What's going on in that head of yours?" I titled my chin up. "Claire," he repeated with a warning.

If there was one thing that I'd learned about lying to Quil, it was that I had to make it believable. It had to be true in some regard, or he wouldn't believe me. I looked down at the bags in my hand. "I don't think that I need to go to the dance, actually," I managed. "Jen and I can go and do something else. We'll just find something else to do. You know how annoying it can be if we go alone. I mean, everyone will just be staring at us."

He nodded. "And the clothes?" he asked then.

Another day, another lie. "I, uh—Come on, Quil, we both know that I'm not the prettiest, most fashionable girl at the school. I just want to be _different_. And I know that it seems silly to you. You were friendly and popular and great in high school. I'm a field hockey player. I run enough to put the football players to shame. I don't… I'm not changing who I am. My clothes are still going to be _me_. I just want them to look a little more like an adult's lazy wardrobe than a kid's." There. That was honest enough.

"So then, what Sam was saying to me about you be interested in a boy? Is ay of that true?" he asked. Leave it to my Uncle Sam to ruin my plots. I continued my trek towards the car, hoping that i would be able to escape him. "Claire, you have to tell me. We're best friends, remember?" Of course I remembered. I also remembered that all we would ever be was best friends. "You tell me everything. Would it really be so hard to tell me about this, too?"

"I'm not interested in a boy, Quil," I said. I was interested in one, very specific guy. And he wasn't a boy, that was for certain. "I'm just interested in getting new clothes. And Jen was the one who wanted to go to the dance. I was just doing it to be a good friend," I out right lied. The good news was that I was loyal enough to my friends that Quil seemed to believe it without any problems. "We can just forget it," I said. "Let's just go home. Never mind." I waved my hands in dismissal of the whole subject, but he didn't.

I guess I'd been too honest.

"I think that you two should go to the dance," he said sternly. I shook my head because he really didn't understand. I was after him. I wanted _him_. "Now come on, let's get you a dress." He dragged me off to the store and sat through grueling hours of shopping while I tried on dress after dress after dress. A million of them, but not a single one seemed to be the _right _one. "Why don't we head home?" he said when I came out in a yellow dress that hang around me like a deflated balloon. "We can try again in La Push," he suggested. "You know, later this week." I nodded and went to change, feeling defeated. Nothing had fit correctly. "And then you and Jenna can have a chance to talk about what colors and stuff like that," he suggested. I just nodded. "Do you need to go home tonight?"

"No, but I need to go and talk to Ryanne about some stuff. She wants me to watch the kids later next weekend. And, she'll, uh, want to see what we've bought." He nodded. That was the trick to it. You just had to tell stories that were true enough. "Just drop me there."

He dropped me at the Black house, made me promise that I would call him when I was ready to go home, and drove away. "I don't think this was such a good idea," I said, shoving the door open and walking in. Ryanne appeared from the hallway, her finger held up to her lips and a frown on her face. "Sorry, sorry," I whispered. I hadn't realized that it was so late. "I really don't think this whole wardrobe thing was such a good idea," I elaborated. She looked down at the bags excitedly.

She pulled me along until I was in her bedroom with her again, pulling things out of my shopping bags. "Good choices, very subtle," she praised. She came across the Victoria's Secret bag with a impish smile. "How did he react to this store?" she laughed. I just sighed and rested my head against my shoulder. "Really? Nothing? Jesus, what does he want you to do? Next time, you should try it on and parade around the store in them," she suggested then. "We'll make you take pole dancing classes. Penn's still got some old tricks up her sleeves."

"That's disgusting and I don't need to know," I replied. "I'm still innocent little Claire, remember?"

"If you keep saying those things, he's never going to believe that you're a big girl now," Ryanne chastised. "Now, what about this don't you think is a good idea?" she asked, settling beside me in a motherly fashion. It always startled me a little. She switched so easily from friend to mom, I rarely knew when to expect it. She stroked over my hair and smiled at me, waiting patiently for me to speak.

"What if this goes backwards? Sam _told_ him that I'm interested in a guy, Ryanne. He freaked out; you should've seen the look on his face. And then… I just—I couldn't make him sit through more shopping. He wasn't paying attention to me. He was so worried about _why_ I wanted new clothing, what we were doing in the stores. I wasn't getting anywhere. If I hadn't convinced him of another reason why, he would have figured it out. This isn't worth it, Ryanne. He doesn't think of me like that," I insisted. She frowned and sat up on the bed.

"Do you remember when you were nine-years-old?" I nodded. "You wanted to swim out to the rocks in the ocean, but we all knew you were too little. But _you_ were determined that you were going to swim out there. You went out there when the rest of us weren't looking and started swimming. Quil swam after you, because you nearly gave him a heart attack. Nine-year-old Claire Young made it all the way out to the rocks. Quil had to carry you back, but you made it there." I shrugged. I was nine. I didn't like being told what to do. "You were too stubborn to give up, Claire. So don't give up now. You have to go to this dance. You have to show him what you want. DOn't give up now."


	9. Chapter LVIII

**Author's Note: I'm back! I know that it has quite literally been ****_forever _****since I updated. I came down with pneumonia and, while I'm still on the mend I'm finally able to stay awake for more than forty minutes. I'm sorry that my fiancé was only able to get two chapters up for you guys. I only had two and a half written. Anyways, I'm alive again. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter VIII**

"Yeah, we went into the city, ate some lunch, went shopping. I told him that you and I were going to winter formal," I said passively.

"I'm sorry," Jenna said quickly. She coughed and choked a little on her rice. "Did you just say that you told Lover Boy that we're going to winter formal? Because I could have sworn that you said that we were going to winter formal?" I bit my lip and smile at little at her. "Claire! We don't do school dances. We've _never _done school dances," she repeated.

"I know, but I panicked," I replied, still tugging on my lip. "I need him to see me as more than a best friend, Jen. And in order for that to happen, I kind of need you to go to the dance with me. We don't have to find dates or anything." I was practically shuddering with nerves. Jenna pursed her lips and stared at me. "Please, Jenna. You have to go with me. I needed an excuse to wear a skimpy dress and show him that I'm not a twelve-year-old anymore," I begged.

She looked me up and down and narrowed her eyes. I was wearing my new clothes, which Jenna had already commented on. Her nostrils flared somewhat and stared at me. "Oh my God! This is why you bought a whole new wardrobe. I knew that you were in love with him!" She clapped her hands together and beamed. "I knew it. So we have to go and do this whole winter formal thing?" I nodded, still unsure. She sounded supportive, but I wasn't really sure that she was saying she would go. "And you think that this will work?" I nodded again. "Fuck it, I guess we're going to the dance."

I jumped up and wrapped her in my embrace. "Have I mentioned that you are the best friend that I could ever ask for?" I asked her. "And I will owe you for a lifetime for this," I added. She nodded against me. "So, we should probably discuss the dresses and stuff like that."

"We'll make them," she announced. I frowned at her. "Come on, you know that my mother is the best seamstress on the Makah Reservation. She'll make you a beautiful dress that will show off just how gorgeous you are. She had a point.

We left immediately after school and headed straight for Jenna's house. Her mother had made a profitable business out of making formal dresses for the girls, especially after Jenna's father died in the war. People said that the U.S.'s war with the Middle East was brutal, but both of us were too young to remember it. Not that I mentioned that to anyone, least of all Nate. Leah's imprint and husband had been a Marine stationed over there. After her father's death, Jenna's mother had needed to find a way to make some money.

Once word had gotten around that Louise could make art with fabric, her works were sought after by everyone. As long as Jenna and I were able to help out with washing and pressing her garments that she was working on, I was sure that she would be willing to help us out. "Hey Mom," Jenna shouted into the house when we got home. Both of us were a little winded from the downhill walk to the beach house. "Claire's here with me. We have a kind of huge favor to ask you," she added. Her mother was still muttering to herself, but years told me she was listening to us.

"Hi girls," she said. I tried to follow her fingers, but she was whipping the needle and thread through the fabric so quickly, I could barely see it. In fact, she didn't look like she was moving at all. "How was school?" she asked distractedly. Jenna gave her a standard response that probably didn't accurately represent the day. The two women had their own language and rituals. At some point in the evening, the two of them would really get around to talking. It just took a little while. "Did you say you needed a favor?"

She stood and shook out the dress that she was working on. "You know how Claire's in love with Quil?" she asked. Her mother nodded immediately. I scoffed and stared at the two of them. "You know that I tell my mom everything. Don't act so surprised. Anyways, Mom, Claire told Claire that we would go to the winter formal dance together." Her mother frowned hanging the dress and pulling out the steamer. "I know," Jen declared. I started at whatever wordless conversation had transpired. "We need dresses and I know that you could always use help."

"I could use help with a few things," she admitted. She put the steamer back up on its hook and turned around to look at me. I suppose that was something that would make sense. She already knew what dresses would look good on her daughter. "That's a new look for you, Claire," she said. I nodded, looking down at my tighter fitted jeans, t-shirt, and zip-up hoodie ensemble. "You must be trying awfully hard to get this boy's attention." Jenna rolled her eyes and nodded. Louise's face transformed from her usual stressed and stern look to a beaming smile. "Then I'm happy to help."

As if the words had set her free, she began buzzing around her little work room. I found myself standing in the center of the room without my jacket so that she could measure me. With little discussing, she planted herself on the couch with her sketchbook. Jenna took over the seams that were pinned at one dress. Cautiously, I began steaming the satin confection she'd only just finished hemming. Lost in her own little world, the only thing that Louise did was look up at me or Jenna every once in a while.

In the meantime, Jenna and I were able to talk about whatever else it was that we needed to discuss. We talked a little about school, but ultimately the subject returned to Quil. "Are you sure just going to the dance is going to be enough?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I can't really do much ore. If I ask him to go with me, he'll get a little suspicious. I mean, he'd never tell me know, but he would be confused. Besides, you combine the dance with the new clothes and I think I'm sending a message."

"Yeah, a _subtle_ message," she replied. I frowned and pulled the steamer and my gaze from the garment in front of me. "Face it, Claire. It's going to take more than a nice dress—" Louise cleared her throat, cocked an eyebrow, and glared at her daughter. "It's going to take more than a _beautiful_ dress," Jenna amended, "to make him see that you're not a kid anymore. He's been your best friend your entire lives." There was yet another reminder that I regularly lied to even my best friend. But how else was I supposed to keep his secret? There was no way.

"Yeah, but I'm almost eighteen. I'm graduating high school!"

"Yeah and that's great. That's age, though," Louise said. "Sweetheart, boys are dense. They don't realize that our age is more than just a number. Boys get older but _rarely_ get smarter. They continue to be stupid until they get a smack in the head." But Quil wasn't stupid. And he really wasn't all that young. He was almost twice my age in _actual _years. "Boys, no matter how old they are, don't always see change, Claire. With your friendship being what it is, I'm sure that Quil doesn't _see_ the fact that you're changing."

"What am I supposed to do about that? I guarantee you that I could do a strip tease and he wouldn't notice a single thing about it," I pointed out. She nodded in agreement. I felt my shoulders slump a little as she agreed. I wanted her to tell me that there was another way, that there was a solution to all of this. "I guess I'll just have to accept that this is what it's going to be, huh?" I felt as if someone had stabbed me and was twisting the knife.

Louise sighed and laid her sketchbook aside. "If you ever tell your mother that I did this, I will deny it and tell her every dirty secret of yours that I know," she threatened. "Your dress will show off your body, but you need to show off your attitude too."

"I—I don't have an attitude," I said quietly.

"We know," Jena and her mother said at the same time. "But we're going to have to teach you one," Louise continued.

"Teach me what?" I asked confused.

"How to _not_ act as innocent as you are."

"Huh?"

"Claire, you have to learn to flirt."


	10. Chapter IX

**Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving, all! Enjoy!**

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**Chapter IX:****_ Quil's Point of View_**

Sunday dinner at Claire's house was probably my favorite part of the week. I made a point of bringing my great-grandfather and heading up to her house every single week. Claire never seemed disturbed by my grandfather's bluntness or by the fact that he sounded like he hated every one. No; she smiled and laughed and kissed his old grizzled cheek at the end of the night. Besides, it was good for her to get to be around my grandfather. So every Sunday, I packed the old geezer into the var and drove out to the Makah Reservation.

As she always was, Claire was sitting on the top step of the porch stairs. Except that this Claire wasn't wearing baggy sweatpants and a tattered old t-shirt. No, this Claire was wearing jeans that were slicked all the way down to her ankles and a tank top that cupped her ample chest. Because of the cold, she wore a sweater over her shirt, but it didn't hide her cleavage or shape any. "That don't look like my great-granddaughter-to-be," Pops said. "What happened to her?"

"She's just wearing new clothes, Pops," I said to the old man. "You planning on insulting her for it?" He just shrugged. I figured that I should probably warn Claire about that. "I'll get your chair." Claire was already scurrying off the porch to come and help. Some of her hair was pulled back and out of her face, tied off with one of her elastic bands. The rest of it floated down around her trim waist and hips. It was different from her usual style, framing her face beautifully. "Hi, sweetheart," I said, leaning down and kissing her cheek. She smiled up at me.

She brushed by me and opened the passenger door. "Hi, Papa Quil," she said, leaning down and kissing his cheek. "How are you feeling today?"

"My side aches and that wolf of your's drives like a maniac," he replied. She laughed and pulled open the backseat, too. She pulled the thick blanket out of the car and folded it over his legs.

"Yeah, he can be a little crazy. At least he looks at the road while you're in the car. He tries to show off and show that he doesn't have to pay attention when I'm with him," she laughed.

"Yeah, I'm sure his _ego_ has everything to do with that," Pops said. She rolled her eyes and started to help him turn his legs. "You got to be in such a hurry girl? You're going to tear my legs off." Claire just continued, going as slow and steady as she had been the entire time. "Is he ever going to get over here with that chair? Boy takes all damned day." My pops continued his shouting about everything, complaining about everything that there was to complain about. Claire didn't care, she just continued helping him out of the car.

I picked the old man up and helped settle him in his chair while Claire tucked the blanket around his legs. On occasion, especially recently, I was struck with just how perfect Claire would be when she was ready. My parents had brought Pops to live with me before they'd decided to retire to the city. Essentially, once Claire was ready for me, it would be the three of us in that house. At least I knew that she could hold her own against the rest of the world, especially against my great-grandfather.

She helped me get the wheelchair up the stairs, although I could do it without her. "I can wheel myself in the house, thank you," Pops said. "I'm old; not a damn cripple. My legs just don't hold these old bones up anymore." Claire rolled her eyes but stepped away from the handles of his chair to let him wheel himself in. He got up to the front door and stopped. "Do I need to open the damn door, too? You kids have no respect." Claire was giggling as she stepped forward to hold the door open to for him.

"Ornery as ever," she sighed when he was inside. I chuckled with her. She made a move to go inside, but I was quick to grab her arm. There was something going on with her. I could sense it down in my bones. I just needed her to tell me. "What?" She turned back to look at me. Normally, she would have folded her arms over her chest. I was surprised when she stepped closer, instead, and looked up at me. "What's wrong?" she asked, a frown on her pretty face. She turned her hand so that the arm I was grabbing was gripped in her hand as well.

"What aren't you telling me, Claire? The last few times that we've been together, you've been different. You aren't telling me something. I need to know, Claire. I'm your best friend. I know everything about you. Now tell me."

"Tell you what?" she asked. "I think you're imagining things, Quil." She pulled a tress of that long hair over her shoulder and looked down at the ground. She pulled a rust colored lip between her teeth and smiled a little, although I had never quite seen _that_ smile on her face. "I think your old age is getting to you." Claire _never_ teased about the age difference. I think that it was easier for her to pretend that I was her age than it was to acknowledge the sixteen and some odd years that separated us. "We should get inside, don't you agree? Your Papa Quil is probably driving Chance crazy by now." She let go of my hand and stuck her hands in her back pockets, which was not usually something the Claire I knew would do. Without another word, she stepped up and opened the door to the house. "You coming, old man?"

Her mother was serving her salmon casserole, as she always did on Sundays. It was amazing how you could eat the same meal every single week and never grow tired of it. As Claire had predicted, Quil Sr. was sitting next to her brother Chance. "You actually like watching this stuff?" Pops was asking him. Claire closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Sounds like nothing more than gibberish to me. I swear you young people have no idea howl to have a good time. In my day, we did more than sit around a screen."

"Yes, you talked each other to death," I said, stepping in before Chance started banging his head against a wall. "At least he hasn't started telling old war stories yet."

"You don't know anything about the war, boy," my great-grandfather said.

"You weren't even in the war!" Claire shouted with a laugh. "Leave the poor boys to watch their game. I'm sure my mother has some iced tea in the kitchen for you." Not giving him the chance to say no, she gripped his handles in her hand and began pushing him towards the kitchen. "Have fun, boys."

Claire came back in a few moments later, having deposited my great-grandfather to the annoying care of her grandmother. She leaned over my shoulder to place the snack foods on the table, bracing her weight against me with one hand. When she was little, my Claire-Bear had smelled of baby powder and shampoo. All these years later, she smelled of lavender. Until now, though, she'd never been close enough for me to smell the detect the subtle hint of baby powder that was underneath the flowers. I sighed, feeling the soft curve of her pressed against my shoulder, the weight of her.

For a moment, I forgot how old she was. For a moment, all I could smell was her. She reached down and grabbed a toothpick. Spearing the cheese, she lifted it and popped the morsel into her mouth. I watched her red lips part to take the cube in her mouth. "Dinner will be ready real soon," she said, her lips closer to my ear than I had thought. She grabbed yet another cube and popped it in her mouth. I should get back before your papa kills my grandma," she said. With that she was gone, her humming forcing reality to return.

"How have you been, Chance?" I asked because I needed to distract myself from the fact that I was still thinking about Claire. She wasn't ready yet. She needed some more time. I had already waited fifteen damn years. I could wait a little longer.

"Fine," the twenty-year-old replied. "Good to be home for a weekend." He'd decided to go to the college in the city, but only so he could come back and take over the ice rink her family ran in Forks. "Thank God Claire hasn't discovered boys yet, though," he added. "My roommate's baby sister has started dating. He's driving himself crazy with it."

"Yeah, well, at least we don't have to worry about that yet," I agreed. At that point, Claire walked in and handed both her brother and I drinks. Her fingernails scratched lightly against my arm. We didn't have anything to worry about…


	11. Chapter X

**Author's Note: She's lives! (Referencing myself here; ignore my stupid sense of humor) Hey guys, I know it's been super hectic and crazy the last few weeks. So much for no-skip-November, huh? The reality is that I still have pneumonia and when that is coupled with holiday weekends, it leads to exhaustion. But, dead week is here for school so I should have plenty of time to write. Hopefully, everything will be up in a more timely fashion. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter X**

I tried desperately to remember all the things that Jenna and Louise had told me. I had to find excuses, innocent as they may seem, to touch him. Nothing untoward, but to let him feel the electricity that coursed between our skin. That was, of course, if he felt it. The other thing was the unobtrusively draw attention to myself. If I was upset, I was supposed to bite my lip. I could play with my hair, although I will admit that i felt like a stupid bimbo when I'd tried that one. I just had to keep his attention.

Papa Quil was complaining about the draft, that didn't exist, to my nana. Nana, in turn, agreed with him and began to spout drivel about what the house was like when _she_ ran it. My nana was one of those mother-in-laws that every woman dreaded. My nana had never felt that my mother was good enough for her family. The Young family was one of the older families in town. According to legend, they were one of the founding families when Native Americans were removed to reservations all those years ago.

Basically, my grandmother felt like we were aristocracy of the Makah tribe. So when my mother, who was Makah but came from no special family, married my father, my grandmother threw a fit and tried to boycott the wedding. For all that, my mom still asked her to come and live with us after my grandfather died. Still, every time that Papa Quil and Nana were in the same room, she wouldn't stop talking about all the things that she used to do with the house. My mother, to her credit, never let on how much it bothered her. Everyone just wants approval.

"Why don't you go and get the boys now, Claire?" my mother suggested after rising from the oven with the rolls in her hands. I longed to steal one from her before fighting with Quil and Chance for food, but that wouldn't be lady like. So I nodded and headed in to living room. Quil turned immediately, like some part of him wanted to know that I was there and that I was safe. I smiled shyly at him, hoping that it would be enough for the moment. I was struggling with this flirting thing.

"Mom says that dinner's ready," I said. Chance stood up and rushed towards the dining room, pressing a kiss against my cheek as he went by. Quil stood a little slower and walked up to me. I would be the only thing that could replace his desire for food. I had learned that much in our years together. "What's with the look on your face?" I asked. I stood up on tiptoe and tapped his nose just a little bit. He jerked his head back and shook a little, scratching at his nose. "Itching nose means you're coming into money," I said.

"I just want to know what's going on, Claire-Bear," he replied. I let my shoulders slump. "What?"

"Nothing," I lied. He gripped my shoulders and narrowed his eyes. I had to come up with another lie, a good one. I had to come up with a way to make him _stop_ calling me by that childish nickname. "Okay, if you _must_ know. Someone in the parking lot at the school heard you calling me Claire-Bear. Now it's all over the school, and when you're eighteen, it's a little annoying," I explained. His fingers gripped my chin when I looked away. It was easier to lie when I didn't have to look at him.

"You're not eighteen, yet," he pointed out. I allowed a little smile to touch my lips. "Trust me, I have things planned for that day." I bit my lip, then, anticipation stuttering my heart. "And if it will make you feel better, I won't call you Claire-Bear anymore," he promised. My heart beat harder with more joy. I liked having some control over him, even if it was just using my emotions to my advantage. "I don't try to make your life harder," he promised.

"We've known each other for so long, I was afraid to ask you not to call me Claire-Bear," I continued. He smiled tenderly at me. I fought the urge to give him permission to call me Claire-Bear in private. In private was when it mattered most. I could take the ridicule and the mutterings. But I couldn't take another year of being his little Claire. I needed to be something more. That would only happen in private. So despite his sad eyes, I wouldn't let him continue the pet name. Especially not when we were alone.

"If we don't leave now, we'll have no food," I added. He pressed his hand against my lower back and steered me towards the dinner table. He held my chair out for me, like a perfect gentleman, and only sat down once I was in my place. I held hands and prayed with the rest of my family. I bit the inside of my cheek with a little bit of nervousness, but ultimately, I was going to have to make a move. Cautiously, I slid my hand onto his thigh, just above his knee.

I pretended to be reaching for the rolls, since he knew they were my favorite. I leaned most of my weight on the arm I had on him. I thought that I saw his cheeks tinge a little bit, but I couldn't be sure. I put the roll in my hand on his plate and used the excuse to keep leaning against him. Once I was sure that the excuse was gone, I sat upright in my chair. Quil was gaping at me like I had grown a beard in the past few seconds. "What? Mom just pulled them out of the oven and I like them best when they're hot."

He rolled his eyes and tried to return to normal, but I could feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. I was stating something. I didn't know what it was, but I was starting something. I dished up the scalloped potatoes and then gave some of them to Quil as well. He stabbed the chicken breasts my mother had made and placed one on my plate before getting three for himself. Luckily, my family were tribal elders and were privy to all things wolf. I other words, they understood why my best friend never aged and why he ate for six people.

I let my leg brush against his, just as Louise had told me to do. Quil was holding conversation with my family, but every once in a while, I could feel his eyes burning into my skull. When dinner was over, my mother assigned my father and my brother to dish duty. She wheeled Papa Quil out to the living room to watch _Jeopardy, _leaving me and Quil alone. "We could go for a walk," he suggested suddenly. I cocked my head to the side and stared at him. He used to take me for walks after family dinner to make sure that I was tired enough to sleep. But we hadn't gone out like that since I was a little kid.

But I nodded. Alone time with him wouldn't hurt me. He tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and curled his arm against his side. "Jenna's mom is going to make our dresses," I said quietly. He looked down at me. "Jenna is now trying to find us dates. Can you believe that?" He frowned at me. "Could you ever imagine _me_ on a date?" I asked. I couldn't. Not without him there.

"What would be so preposterous about you on a date?" he asked. I would have to remember to thank Louise. She'd been right. Quil was my best friend; he wanted the best for me. He would never hear anything about low self confidence.

"Boys don't look at girls like me, Quil." He sure didn't.

"So it _is_ a boy that you're trying to impress," he said with satisfaction. I had forgotten all of his blather about me chasing a boy.

"No, Quil; I'm not after a boy. I'm stating a fact," I replied, laughing. My cheeks were turning pink, I was sure of it. But it wasn't because I was embarrassed. It was because I couldn't believe how dense the boy was. "Look, Quil, I'm okay with who I am. I'm not a pretty girl. I'm just plain. I'm not someone that guys look at. I'm too short and I dress too much like a man. But one day, I want to get married and have kids. I can't do that if no one ever looks at me."

"I'm looking at you," he replied. He kissed my forehead while we walked. Yeah, he was looking at me. But he wasn't seeing what I needed him to see. "We should get you home before you catch a chill." I may not be Claire-Bear, but I was still just a kid to him.


	12. Chapter XI

**Quiz Time!: What happens to highways when a winter storm blows it? A: The roads close. B: You get stuck sleeping in your truck waiting for the highway to open. C: You are unable to update your stories. D: You have to miss school the next morning. Or E: All of the above. If you answered E, you pretty much guessed my night. Sorry that there weren't updates yesterday. In other news, I will be traveling from Wyoming to California on Friday the 13th. So I'm giving you guys the option. I can either update late Friday night or skip and update like normal on Saturday. Leave a review or shoot me a PM, okay? Okay. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter XI:****_ Quil's Point of View_**

Claire was leaning over me, her long hair falling over her shoulder. Her hands touched my shoulders, tentatively. He pressed me into the bed a little more. Of their own accord, my hands gripped her hips and pulled her more firmly on top of me. I watched her bite down on her lip as I pulled her closer. Like a blanket that I had always wanted, her body draped over mine. Slowly, inch by inch, her mouth came closer to mine. I found myself leaning upright as —

I jerked myself awake, sitting upright and looking around the dark bedroom. I had dreamt of Claire before, but never had it been like that. Even the first dream I'd ever had of her, the night after I imprint on her, hadn't been so…explicit. The first dream that I'd ever had of her hadn't been anything bad. She was a little kid, after all. In my dream, I'd seen her as an adult. Or, at least, what I thought she would like. In truth, she looked nothing like that now. Needing to take my mind off of that, I got out of the bed and headed to the forest.

_You're not on patrol, _Sam stated in my head. _You asked one of us to cover, remember? Because you wanted to get stuff set up for my niece's eighteenth birthday. You know, when she's an adult._ The flash of the dream flashed through my brain. Sam growled and bent into an attack position. _That's my niece! _

_I know that. Why do you think I'm out here? I scared the shit out of myself. I don't think of Claire like that. She's—She's just a kid, _I defended. _She doesn't want me like that either, Sam. She's not ready. And I won't be ready until she is._

Sam huffed. I didn't want to defend myself for the next hour. No; I needed to go talk to Jake. He'd always been my best friend. I rushed over to their house and phased out. Little Sarah opened the door and smiled up at me. "Hi, Uncle Quil," she said brightly. "Daddy's in the back with Willy." I scrubbed her dark head of curls and walked into the house. As the little girl had told me, her daddy was standing at a work table in the back yard with his son in front of him.

"Hey," I called. Jake stood up a little straighter and looked over at me. "You got a second?"

"Dad, you promised we could build the bed!" Will shouted at him. Jake looked down at his son. The younger boy was the spitting image of his father, down to the very last detail. The major difference was his attitude. William Black, Jr. had definitely inherited his mother's principle of saying exactly what was on his mind. But just one look from his father and Will fell silent.

"We will finish building your bed, Will. Right now, Uncle Quil needs to talk about some things with me. Go inside and wait for Mama to get home with the groceries. And then, you and your sisters help Mama unload. Do you understand?" Will nodded solemnly. The little boy trudged back into the house, his head ducked down as he went. "What's wrong? I'm supposed to be building a bed with my son. I've already put it off three times," he stated. I think he must have truly looked at me then. "What's wrong?" he asked then. "You look like someone shot your dog. And since you are your own dog…"

I explained everything to him. I told him about the dream and my conversation with Sam, brief as it had been. "I know that she's a kid still. I just—the dream kind of freaked me out," I admitted. "I don't think of Claire that way. She's my little girl. She's always been my little girl, you know?"

"Did you ever stop to consider the fact that she's eighteen today?" Jake asked. "I mean, she's not exactly a little kid anymore. Technically speaking, she's an adult now. Maybe the wolf side of your brain doesn't quite see her as a kid."

"We both know it doesn't work like that," I replied. "The man and the wolf share. One doesn't command the other."

"Really? So the man made the conscious decision to phase and hit Emily when Sam got mad? The _man_ chooses the imprint? The wolf is attracted to the imprint first, Quil. We both it _works_ that way. The Spirits pick the mate and the _wolf_ recognizes. The man takes more time to realize that she's more important than just a mate," he replied. "If I had to hazard a guess, I would tell you that Claire might not be as much of a kid as you're thinking. I mean, I would like to see Claire as a little kid forever, but even I know that she's a woman. I see it, Quil. She's not a kid. She's _hot_," he explained.

"Hi boys," Ryanne said, popping her head into the backyard. "What's going on?" she asked suspiciously. I was probably glaring at Jake for the comment. He was married. He shouldn't be looking at anyone else, never mind _my_ imprint.

"Quil is having trouble accepting that Claire has turned from little kid to hot teenager," he said. I growled. "What? Her words, not mine," he said, shoving a finger in Ryanne's direction. She shrugged. "He had a racy dream about her this morning and he's freaking out."

"Well, I'm not one to pry into other people's relationships," Ryanne began.

Jake snorted loudly. "Since when is that not your thing?" he asked his wife as she sauntered towards him. He gripped her hips between his hands and pulled her tight.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered, a hurt expression on her face.

"Let's see here, you set Kim up with Jared. You helped Paul practice sign language to learn to speak with Charlotte. You helped Embry win Penn over. You controlled Leah and Nate's relationship for a long time," Jake continued.

"Okay, okay, I get it. Thank you," she said, smacking his cheek. "It would seem that you're the only one that I _haven't_ tried to meddle with, Quil. Let's have it." There was a little mysterious glint in her eyes that scared me a little bit, but I explained everything to her.

"She's just a kid," I repeated.

"Oh my God!" Ryanne shouted, throwing her hands in the air. "Jake, go inside and watch the kids. I have to beat some sense into him with a crowbar." I took a startled step backwards. Jake looked at me with an apologetic expression and left. "She's _not_ a kid. She's an eighteen-year-old girl. More to the point, Quil you've got to be retarded if you don't realize that you're fooling yourself." I frowned at her. "Why can't you go out with Claire? Why can't it become something more than just being her wolf?"

"She's a kid. She's not ready yet," I explained. Ryanne lifted one eyebrow to send me a dangerous look.

"Who says she's not fucking ready?" she screamed. Her arms flew over her head in exasperation. "When was the last time that you said, 'Hey Claire, eventually you and I are going to fall in love and I just wanted to know what you think about that'?" She strode up closer and poked me in the sternum. "Did you talk to Claire? Have you had a conversation about this with her?" she demanded. "Because until then, all you're doing is making assumptions. And you want to know what I think?"

"Not really, but you'll tell me anyways," I muttered. She glared at me.

"I think that you're falling in love with her and you're afraid that she won't love you," she accused. Her voice and face softened. "I think that all the time that you spend telling yourself that she's not ready is just you _lying_ to yourself, Quil." She shook her head. "It's scary to be in love. It's scary to realize that you might feel something you've never felt before. Just me, I've been there. But nothing compares to the feeling you get when you realize that she's not a kid. And nothing compares to the regret you'll feel if you don't do something."

"And what if she's not ready, Rye? What then? I can't hurt her. That's what I'd be doing if I pushed her towards something that she wasn't ready for. I'd be hurting her," I retorted.

"And what if she is?" she countered. "What if she's sitting there waiting for you to see her as a woman and all you do is treat her like a kid?" she demanded of me. Claire would tell me. She told me everything. If she wanted to become more, to change things, she'd find a way to tell me. "Don't you think rejection hurts too?"


	13. Chapter XII

**Author's Note: For those who read all my stories, there will be no update to ****_Chains Around Her Heart_**** tonight, as I somehow managed to get a day ahead on that one. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter XII**

I turned around and around in the little room, looking at myself in the mirror. The dress was practically molded to me, like a second skin. It showed the too wide slope of my hip, the generous curve of the chest that I wanted to hide. It stopped several inches short of my knees, which was probably the scariest thing of all. The only thing that I had that was _that _short was the bottoms to my swimsuit. "It's beautiful," I whispered, not wanting to offend Jenna or her mother.

"But?" Jenna cautioned. I bit my lip and looked away from her.

"It's just a little," I trailed off, not really sure what it was that I was trying to say.

"Grown up?" Louise supplied. I nodded. "That's the point of all of this, sweetheart. You want him to see you as an adult, then you have to be willing to risk the big things." I flopped my head back and sighed. "Now, you have a surprise birthday thing from the man you love," she dismissed. "And as fun as our five a.m. fitting has been, there are customers who actually _paid_ me that are supposed to get their garments today."

I smiled and hugged her, stripping out of the clothes I was wearing. I pulled my jeans and t-shirt over my head, slipping my feet into my house shoes and raced towards my house. I could feel the sand jumping into my shoes as I sprinted. I slipped through the back door and upstairs into my bedroom. I had hauled my hair back into my customary high ponytail. I needed to do something different, especially if I wanted Quil to keep noticing me. I pulled it all down and shook it out before tossing some of it to the side.

"Claire?" Chance called down the hall. I stepped out of the bathroom and looked at my older brother. "Happy Birthday, baby sister," he said, hugging me tight to his chest. I rolled my eyes and thanked him. "Quil is downstairs waiting for you." I smiled again. "Why else would anything change this year?" he muttered, rolling his eyes while I rushed out of the bathroom and down the stairs. I grabbed hold of the banister and turned quickly at the post. My excitement had me flying down the hallway and nearly collided with my wolf.

"Good morning," Quil said with a laugh. "Someone was in a hurry," he muttered then. I beamed up at him and stretched up on my tip-toes to kiss his cheek. I wanted to linger a little longer than normal, but pulled away after only a moment. "Happy Birthday, Claire-Be… Happy Birthday, Claire," he said. My heart fluttered a little when he dropped the nickname. It was the first time all the years that he'd been celebrating birthdays with me that he hadn't called me Claire-Bear. "Let's go," he said. He threaded our fingers together and started for the front door.

"Wait a second! What about my parents?" I asked him with a laugh. "Quil, it's my birthday. We always do birthday breakfast with my parents!" I protested, barely putting up a fight as he began dragging me towards the car.

"You're eighteen, now. Things get to start changing." The amused smile on my face fell in that instant. Was he really saying what I thought he was saying? My heart stuttered in my chest. Was I finally making a difference? He continued dragging me towards the front yard. "I already talked to your parents. Let's go."

He held open the door for me and kept his hand on my back while I clambered up into the lifted truck. "So, where are we going?" I asked him.

"To go and do all those things that you've been waiting for eighteen years to do," he replied cryptically. "You have to buy a lotto ticket and go to a club and all those other things," he explained. "And I happen to remember a certain someone saying that she wanted to get a tattoo the day she turned eighteen. My eyes went wide. "I already called ahead and got you an appointment for something _small,_" he made sure to clarify, "and I talked to your parents already. They're cool as long as you don't get a tramp stamp and you get it somewhere that you can cover up around Nana and Pops," he explained. I smiled at him. "You do realize it's the only secret you've ever kept from me," he said.

"What is?"

"What you've wanted for your tattoo," he clarified. "It's the only thing that you've kept hidden from me in your life." _Not the only thing,_ my brain warned me. "So, I want to know what it is."

"I guess you'll have to find out while we're sitting there. Because you are going to be sitting there while I'm having needles stabbed into my skin and ink injected," I retorted.

"You could, you know, _not_ talk about the pain I'm going to have to watch you endure," he replied. I rolled my eyes at him. "That can happen _after_ we have breakfast. I'm starving." I shouldn't really be surprised. Quil was always hungry. He put music on while we drove, but didn't say anything. On a normal drive, I would talk and talk and talk until there was nothing left to say.

But today, I didn't have anything to say. There was anticipation building in me. I wanted a tattoo. I wanted a fun day spent with my best friend. If all things went well, I was going to get exactly what I wanted today. Today, he was going to to give me the kiss that I've wanted my entire life. One way or another, I was going to get it. So I sat in silence and plotted my day. If I could just continue flirting with him over breakfast and whatever else he had planned.

I was ushered into a hole-in-the-wall cafe that I had never heard of, much less been to. "Ryanne swears they have the best coffee in Seattle," he said, his hand fitted to the small of my back. I curved my spine into his hand just a little and relished in the feel of his touch. "Jake says they have delicious donuts, too," he added. There was no seating necessary. The two of us found a table by the fireplace, then he left to go and order our meal.

I couldn't decide if today was the right day to talk to him about all of this. I told him everything. I'd even made the mistake of telling him about my first period when I was twelve. In my defense, I had thought that I was going to die. My mother had told me the _biological_ things that were going to happen. She'd failed to mention that there would be blood involved. I was twelve. How was I supposed to know what shedding the lining of your uterus meant? And, I'd just happened to be with Quil. All of which left me with little choice about who to tell.

My feelings for him were the only thing that I kept to myself. He knew _everything_ about me. Even the things that I didn't tell him. His wolf senses were sometimes a nuisance in my life. "It's hot," he said immediately upon his return.

I couldn't tell you why that phrase set me off. I couldn't tell you why whatever was inside me snapped. I took the cup between my hands, letting the warmth seep through my skin. He frowned at the look on my face. "What's wrong Claire?" he asked quietly. "It's your birthday. You're supposed to be smiling."

"How long is this going to go on?" I asked.

"If you want to do something else, we —"

"How long are you going to treat me like a kid?" I snapped. My voice was quiet. I didn't want to draw attention to us. He would hear me no matter how quietly I spoke. "How long is it going to take for you to realize that I'm not a little kid?"

"Claire—"

"You know, since I was a toddler, I've been told that one day you would fall in love with me. I've been told that you were my eternity. It was just inevitable. And I believed that, Quil," I whispered. I shook my head. "But I'm realizing now that you will _never_ feel that way about me. It's my eighteenth birthday. Charlie and Paul were _married_ when they were eighteen. Jake proposed to Ryanne when they were eighteen. And you… You still have to remind me that my latte is too hot for me to drink."

"It's not —"

"I don't need to hear the excuses, Quil." I looked at the foamed top of my drink. "I guess I'll just have to accept that you and I are only going to be friends. Because you'll never see me as more than a kid."

I stood up and started walking away from him. My birthday morning and I was arguing with him. So much for getting a kiss. So much for having fun. I wanted a birthday celebration, not the end to my relationship. I only made it a step away before his hand locked around my arm. He bent lower over my face, his breath fanning over my cheeks. "I don't think of you as a child, Claire," he muttered in the seconds before his mouth captured mine.


	14. Chapter XIII

**Author's Note: Don't forget that I don't update on Sundays! And if you haven't already, please send me your vote about Friday the 13th and how that's going to work. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter XIII**

It was sweeter than anything that I had imagined. In my dreams, Quil had always kissed me like a house aflame. In my wishes, he'd realized that he was in love with me and that he was ready for what that love meant. But this… This was nothing like that. I grabbed his face between my small hands while his arms wrapped tight around my waist. I didn't feel the searing heat that I'd always dreamed about. Instead, I felt like I was being melted from the inside out. He pulled me closer.

His mouth moved insistently against mine, like he wasn't going to stop unless his life depended on it. There was no stopping him and I wasn't going to try. He tugged and pulled and suckled until I thought that I was going mad with desire. I kissed him back, gave everything he gave me in return. This was better than what I had dreamed of and this was what I wanted for the rest of my life. I knew, in that instant, that I wouldn't get enough of kissing him. However, we weren't the only ones in that cafe. We were undoubtedly making a spectacle.

Quil pulled away after why felt like an eternity but was only a moment or two and looked me dead in the face. "Still think that I see you as a child?" he asked. I smiled, but my heart sank. He was doing it to prove a point. He just wanted to make sure that I knew he didn't see me as an infant anymore. This wasn't about love. I nodded, not trusting my voice to lie to him at the moment. He didn't love me. "Let's finish breakfast."

We did finish our breakfast. The meal was delicious. Quil left a generous tip for whoever had to clean up our mess and left his car parked on the curb. We walked through the town for a few minutes before he found a liquor store he deemed acceptable for the two of us to go in. I should say, for _me_ to go in. Using cash that he gave me, I bought my first lotto ticker. I must admit that it was a little disappointing, since the guy behind the counter didn't even ask to see my ID. "How about a walk in the park before we head to the shop?"

I smiled and nodded, but even I knew that the grin didn't reach my eyes. What had I done to make it so that he couldn't fall in love with me? I mean, I'd changed the way that I was dressing. I changed the way that I acted around him. I refused to change who I was, though. If he didn't love me, so be it. But I would never stop loving him. We walked in companionable silence, our fingers twined together. "You're being quiet, even for you," he said then. "Are you mad at me?"

"Mad about what?" I said, truly confused. He just leveled me with a look. "Mad that you kissed me?" He nodded, looking sheepish. I scoffed and tried to figure out what to tell him. I didn't want to admit that i had enjoyed it as much as I had. I was far too embarrassed to tell him that I was craving more. "The last thing I feel about that kiss is anger, Quil." That would have to suffice for the moment. It was vague enough that he wouldn't question in, but still told him that I'd enjoyed it. "And you? It was just to prove a point, right?"

"I'm sorry?" he questioned.

"Never mind, I don't want to ruin this," I rushed to say. My birthday was going terrible wrong already. I didn't want to be the cause of any other disturbances.

"No; tell me," he demanded. I shook my head. "Claire, please. There used to be a time when you would tell me everything. Please stop hiding stuff from me." We kept walking, but I stayed silent. Quil stopped then, his anger evident. He pulled me behind one of the larger trees, shielding me from the prying eyes of the rest of the world. "You used to talk to me, Claire. I keep asking you what's wrong and you refuse to tell me. Now, I've had enough. Tell me the truth. Now." I stayed silent. "Now, Claire."

"It started a few years ago," I whispered. "I never told you because I thought that I was too little still. I mean, I couldn't even drive yet. At first, I was scared. I'd known you my entire life, you know?" He nodded, but he still looked confused. "I thought that it was just a matter of time before it happened. I mean, that's the way that everyone said it would happen. You didn't notice, though. You acted like everything was just the same as always; for me, it wasn't." I refused to let him see just how hurt that had made me. I couldn't let him know that I wanted so much more than what he was willing to give me. Because the reality was that Quil would _give_ me anything. But I wanted this to be from him. I wanted him to want me the way that I was in love with him, not do what he thought he should to make me happy.

"Claire, you're not making any sense," he said. I stopped and took a deep breath. How did you tell someone that you loved them more than life itself? How did you tell someone that you were tired of being the little sister and you wanted to be something more? Maybe it was time for all the lies to be over with. Maybe, it was time that I told him exactly what I wanted to say. Maybe he needed to know that I was in love with him.

No.

If I told him, he would love me because I wanted it. Not him.

"Can we talk about this another day?" I asked. He frowned at me. "Please. It's my birthday and I just want us to forget everything and have fun," I begged. He sighed, his eyes narrowed. When I was a little kid, that look used to make me smile. That look usually meant that I was going to get my way. But even though _I_ had been the one to suggest that we forget everything, I wanted him to deny the request. I wanted him to prove that I was more than just little Claire.

"Fine. But we _will_ talk about this," he declared. I nodded He took my hand again and started leading me towards the park's path again. I noticed immediately that he was quiet and forced myself to look up at him. His face was schooled into an uninterested mask. If anyone else were to see it, they would probably see nothing but a guy with a distracted smile on his face. But I knew that look. I knew Quil. He was trying to make it look like nothing was bothering him when nothing could be further from the truth.

There was some snow and frost hanging on the trees and the grass around the park. It really was quite beautiful. I loved winter, especially the little snow that we got in our little corner of the country. Most people hated the season because of cold and the weather. I loved everything about. I liked the way your breath turned frosty in the air. I liked the way that the frost drew elegant designs on my windows. And at the present moment, I loved the way that Quil cuddled me close to protect me from chill of the day.

He checked his watch after another moment of strolling through the park. "Your appointments soon. We should get going," he said. I nodded and let him guide me towards the street again. We walked to the place, which surprised me with the cold. But it wasn't near as far as I thought it would be. "Ryanne and the other girls got their tattoos here," he explained. "So the guy who I made your appointment with knows our family well. Penn says he does a good job."

"I didn't think that you would send me to someone who you didn't check on," I said bemusedly.

"And you still won't tell me what you're going to get?" I shook my head.

When we made it up the stairs to the small studio. "You stay here," I commanded after meeting the guy that would be doing my tattoo. Quil's mouth gaped open, as if he hadn't thought that I would actually follow through. When we were settled in the back room, away from Quil's prying eyes and supernatural ears, I dug into my purse and pulled the design out. I had drawn it ages ago, when I'd been bored in art class.

"This is what you want?" he asked. I nodded. "Who drew this? he asked after another silent moment of scrutinizing my work. "It's really good," he applauded.

"I did."

"Well, let me run it through our machine and get a stencil made up. Heidi will show you to my station and get you all set up," he said, waving a hand towards a petite tattooed girl in the corner.

"Now do I get to see?" Quil grumbled, already sitting in the tattoo area.


	15. Chapter XIV

**Author's Note: I know that there weren't chapters yesterday. And I know that it was a crappy thing for me to do, but in light of recent discoveries made on this site, I was forced to decide what I was going to do. Much as I love writing for you guys, I had to decide whether this site's inability to protect its users was actually worth it. I still haven't made my decision. I'm still more than a little angry about what's going on. But for the time being, all I can do is write. So enjoy!**

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**Chapter XIV:****_ Quil's Point of View _**

She was just holding her coffee mug in her hands, not even drinking it. She looked so angry and upset, I wondered what had happened to her. "What's wrong, Claire?" I asked her, frowning and looking at her in confusion. "It's your birthday. You're supposed to be smiling." I pointed out. She was quiet, even the puff of air that escaped her mouth was nearly inaudible. I wanted to reach across to her hand and pry it from it's frozen position around her boiling coffee.

"How long is this going to go on?" she said cryptically.

"If you want to do something else, we—"

"How long are you going to treat me like a kid?" she growled softly. If it were any other day, any other moment, I would have teased her about hanging out with the Pack too much. But the desperation in her voice and the pain that was laced through it told me that this wasn't the moment for jokes. "How long is it going to take for you to realize that I'm not a little kid?" She wasn't a little kid. I knew that.

"Claire—"

"You know, since I was a toddler, I've been told that one day, you would fall in love with me." And I had begged everyone not to tell her that. I had only ever wanted her to make her decision, not what everyone else told her. "I've been told that you were my eternity. It was just inevitable. And I believed that, Quil." The tone of her voice said that she wasn't upset about it, though. She seemed… She seemed sad that I hadn't made the same decision. She shook her head in a show of grief that ran so deep, my soul her.

"But I'm realizing now," she began, her voice breaking, "that you will _never_ feel that way about me. It's my eighteenth birthday. Charlie and Paul were _married_ when they were eighteen. Jake proposed to Ryanne when they were eighteen. And you," she stopped and shook her head again. "You still have to remind me that my latte is too hot to drink." It wasn't like that, though. That wasn't what I'd been saying. It didn't matter who it was; I would have said that the drink was hot.

"It's not—"

"I don't need to hear excuses, Quil," she interrupted again. "I guess I'll just have to accept that you and I are only ever going to be friends." I watched the light die in her eyes. "Because you'll never see me as a kid." I wasn't quite sure how to react to her proclamation. I loved her, I did. And I didn't see her as a child. I just wasn't _in_ love with her. At least, I didn't think so. And who would have guessed that two damn letters would make such a difference in my life. Before I could react, though, she was standing and stepping towards the door.

I lunged out of my chair and grabbed hold of her elbow, spinning her back against my chest. If this was what I needed to do in order to convince her of the truth, this was what I would do. I knew that she wasn't a child. Now I just had to prove it to her. "I don't think of you as a child, Claire," I promised her. I dragged her closer to me, although there wasn't much more than a centimeter between us. I covered her lips with my own, then, expecting that I could kiss her and be finished with this drama.

The world around me, however, ceased to exist. Within seconds of feeling her lips on mine, I realized that I'd been a fool for years. She tasted of ginger and oranges and apples, like the best juice you could ever make. My eyes had been open, hoping to prove my point and let this go. But her surrender was too sweet to be ignored. I drew her closer to me at the same moment that she gripped my face between her hands. My eyes slid shut as the unfamiliar sensation of floating surrounded me.

I realized that I'd been missing in that moment. That same dream I'd had of her years ago, of seeing her as an adult, came flooding back in an instant. She looked nothing like the woman that I had originally pictured. No; now she looked like my Claire, older, more filled out, more curvaceous, but my Claire. She turned around to look at me, a ready smile on her face. She held an infant in her arms, a onesie dressing the child. She bounced the infant and smiled broader at the burp. It was our child. This would be our life.

And I wanted it.

Claire's eagerness for the kiss got the better of her as she threw her body against mine. Her teeth clashed against my lip, sending a brief stinging sensation. I wanted to pull away, especially when I tasted the blood in my mouth. But the wound healed an instant later and Claire didn't need to see it. She would only be upset by it. Besides, she didn't seem to notice and it most definitely wasn't stopping her from trying everything within her power to make me take more advantage of her.

I couldn't.

Everyone was right. She'd been in love with me for God knows how long and I had been ignoring her. Worse than all of that, I had hurt her. Between the anger and desperation in her voice and the way that she responded to my embrace, that much was clear to me. I was going to have to do this right, to start from scratch. I was going to make her see that I was in love with her. "Still think that I see you as a child?" I asked when I pulled away. Anyone who kissed a child like that and felt what I'd felt should be put in jail.

She smiled and shook her head, but the light left her eyes almost instantly. I replayed the words in my head, replaced the entire scene that people were undoubtedly watching and realized what I'd said. Realized how she would take it. She assumed that I'd done it to prove something to her. I couldn't blame her, really. That had been my original intention. I felt a little deflated. Any declaration that I gave her now wouldn't matter to her. She would assume that I was doing it to give her what she wanted. "Let's finish breakfast," I decided.

She sat back down and smiled, told me silly little stories about her day at school, laughed and giggled. But the actions never truly reached her eyes. She wasn't as happy as she was letting on. When I suggested a walk in the park, she agreed easily enough, but her anger was evident in the lines on her forehead. Worse than that, she was completely silent. She hadn't said a word since the kiss. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe she wasn't in love with me. Maybe I had crossed a line.

"You're being quiet, even for you," I finally said. "Are you mad at me?" She looked up at me with utter shock and confusion written across her face.

"Mad about what?" she asked. What else had I done that would have pissed her off? Sometimes, she was just so silly. "Mad that you kissed me?" she said as if the words finally dawned on her. What the hell had I been thinking? She wasn't ready and I had crossed the line. She was never going to trust me. "The last thing that I feel about that kiss is anger, Quil," she said sternly. I felt as if I could breathe again. Maybe I hadn't ruined everything. "And you? It was just to prove a point, right?" I frowned at her.

I tried to get her to expand, to say something _more_ than just her cryptic questions. If I had known what can of worms I was opening though, I might not have done it. Her eyes filled with tears while she spoke, but nothing was clear enough for me to make sense of. "Can we talk about this another day?" she begged. "Please. It's my birthday." And I didn't want to ruin her birthday.

"Fine, but we _will_ talk about this," I decided. She wasn't going to get away from me again. I wouldn't allow it. I hadn't made sense of a word that she'd said, but I knew now what I wanted. I wanted her for the rest of my life. One of two things were going to happen here, though. Either she would be just as in love with me as I had discovered I was with her. Or she wasn't ready and everyone was wrong. The plan had to be the same regardless. I had to show her how much I loved her.

And I intended to to just that.


	16. Chapter XV

**Author's Note: Here's our next chapter. In case you haven't gathered, this story is mostly fluff. Claire's known Quil her entire life. She doesn't need reassurance that he'd protect her. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter XV**

I tried valiantly to stay quiet, but the more that the tattoo artist dug into the skin of my shoulder blade. Quil sat beside me and held my hand the entire time, watching cautiously as the tattoo machine was amped, adjusted, and ultimately pushed back into my skin. The guy hit a particularly sore spot about two hours into my session. I hissed at the guy. "That wasn't a happy spot," I muttered. Quil growled in response when the guy simply apologized and continued. The tattoo artist had been kind enough to kick Quil out while laying the stencil.

With the guy hunched over my shoulder, Quil had no hope of seeing what was being put on my back. I had a death grip on the wolf's hand, squeezing it every single time that the pain got a little bit too intense. Quil, in turn, pressed his mouth against the back of my hand whenever he could feel me holding on too tight. "You regretting this yet?" he asked me. I waited until I felt the pause in the machine to turn my head and look at him. He smiled down at me with nothing but amusement.

We sat there in relative silence for a few more hours while, what was supposed to be a _small_ tattoo, was finished. Quil was growing more anxious by the moment, especially when the guy began squirting whatever solution he used onto my skin and wiping it off. I knew what Quil was going to see. I had no idea what his reaction would be, though. "All right," the guy finally said. "You are done." He punctuated the statement by rubbing some gel-like substance over my skin before letting me up. Quil let me go and stared.

His eyes were wide in his head when I turned to look over my shoulder. The paw print was larger than I had originally planned, but far more beautiful. It was a distinct wolf print, because there was a difference between a wolf and a dog. Wolf prints are more elongated with more defined nail imprints at the end since they were adapted for running. In the toe prints and pad was the haunting gaze of a wolf that looked distinctly like Quil. I'd asked the artist to use a picture Quil didn't know I had, as the wolf's face.

"Claire, it's stunning," Quil praised. I wanted so desperately to touch it, but one that I couldn't. While it was beautiful and elegant, the tattoo was still a wound and I couldn't risk infection. Quil's eyes, albeit in wolf form, stared at me from my skin. "It looks great, man," he said, turning and shaking the artist's hand. I turned with a bright smile and did the same. "Now, how much did this wonderful piece of art cost me?" he asked with a laugh. The tattooer turned me back around and began layering bandages and ointments down while naming a sum larger than I'd thought.

Of course, I'd also been prepared to pay for it on my own. "And is there any special cream or ointment that I need to get her?" Quil asked then. "I don't need her to get an infection or anything." I smiled up at him, too overjoyed with my tattoo to chastise him for cheating me like a child again. While I cautiously pulled my shit sleeve back up onto my shoulder, Quil paid. I was surprised to find him looking over at me while he chatted with the guy about what to do if we had any problems.

Giddy with joy, I thanked the guy once again and let Quil escort me out. I turned over my shoulder and looked at the bandage that was peeking out at me. "Will you stop it?" he asked with a laugh. "The bandage won't disappear until twenty-four hours from now." I smiled up at him. "Now, we've got other things on our agenda. So let's get going, shall we?" I nodded and smiled while we walked a little farther. "If I had known that you were going to be this excited about your tattoo, I would have saved it."

"We already went and bought lotto tickets, although you have to admit that was underwhelming." He smiled at me. "I have a tattoo now. We went and did our birthday breakfast. What else could we possibly be doing?" I asked him. We were heading back to the car, but I didn't know why. He dug into his pocket and searched around for a few moments before withdrawing his hand. I recognized the tickets as tickets the moment that they were in his hand, but I couldn't see the small writing scrawled across them. "What are those?"  
"Tickets to see _The Phantom of the Opera_ tonight in Seattle," he replied. "We're going out to dinner with your parents and your brother. Then your brother is heading home and your parents are going Christmas shopping," he explained. I couldn't believe this. Even while he was opening my door for me and urging me inside, I couldn't believe it. He'd remembered. "You didn't think that I would forget a promise that I'd made you, did you?" he asked when he was finally in his seat. "I told you that when you were eighteen, I would take you to see a play."

"I know that, but the tickets are so expensive," I replied. "And _The Phantom of the Opera _is usually one of the most expensive ones that there are," I added.

"It's also your favorite," he pointed out. My brows fell with a little bit of shock. I figured that he knew me. How could he not after all the years that we've spent together? But I'd never actually told him what my favorite movie was. I'd never told anyone what my favorite things were. And he just magically knew. "We're going to the mall first, on behalf of your mother, to find you a dress."

"I have dresses," I argued, but he was already putting the car in drive and heading for the mall. "I just bought a whole bunch of clothes, remember? I'm sure that I have something in there that I can wear for this night."

"You bought jeans and t-shirts and sweaters. You didn't buy dresses because you hate dresses. Your mother, however, insisted that you buy a dress. Just one," he promised. I let my head flop against the back of my seat. "Maybe I could try and talk her into a skirt, but you have to look like a lady. Mom's rules."

"God forbid I look like a grizzly like I do every other day," I muttered. He rolled his eyes but continued driving. I sat silently, watching the trees and the road drift by us as we drove. Despite the fact that he'd kissed me, despite the fact that he'd just been trying to prove a point, the day wasn't a total loss. Every once in a while, though, I would catch him looking at me. It was a little strange, actually. He'd never stared at me quite like he was at the moment.

"I can't believe I'm subjecting myself to this _again_," he muttered as we walked into yet another store. I wasn't any more thrills about it than he had been. I hated shopping and I had only done it earlier to make sure that he noticed me. An endeavor that I had clearly failed in. "We don't have to spend hours here, do we?" he asked then.

"I am more than content to wear some nice jeans and a pretty shirt," I pointed out. He shook his head. "I now, I know; Mom's rules."

We walked through the store to the dressier things that existed. I frowned as we passed by them, fighting the rather childish urge to stick my tongue out at them. "Let's get to work," he said, releasing his grip on my shoulder, clapping his hands together, and proceeding to rub them like some maniacal villain. We began sorting through more clothes than I had ever seen in my entire life. It honestly felt like one of those stupid movie montages, where the girl and her best friend spend countless hours trying on stupid clothes in order to find the perfect outfit. Although, Quil refused to put on any dress that I offered to him.

We sat down in the waiting area outside of the dressing room, feigning panting for the sake of our own stupidity. "Come on," he said, groaning and smacking my thigh. "One more." He threw the skirt to me. It was shorter than what I would have chosen and looked like it would show every line of my body. I marched to the dressing room again and pulled the slinky garment up my legs, pairing it with a shirt that clung to my chest and waist, but was loose around my arms. Without pausing to look in the mirror, I hurried out to the waiting area.

Quil's eyes bugged a little as he perused my body. His eyes met mine, a gleam I'd never quite seen before flashing in them. "Perfect," he breathed.


	17. Chapter XVI

**Author's Note: Okay, I know it's been a couple of days since I last updated. If you're interested in the long story, you can look at my profile and it'll give you all of it. But long story short: I traveled, my flights were delayed, my family is in chaos, and I needed a few days to deal with the drama. So, here's the deal. I am going to get back into updating, but there won't be a chapter for ****_Chains Around Her Heart_**** since I updated that one. Please bear with me the next couple of days while I get everything together again. Please and thank you! Enjoy!**

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**Chapter XVI**

True to his word, Quil got me home in more than enough time to get my clothes together for the play. I honestly couldn't believe that he remembered. It was, after all, a promise that he'd made me when I was little more than a child. Instead of pulling up to the house and watching from the car to make sure that I got in the house safe, he actually pulled all the way up to the house and put his car into park before walking me all the way to the door. "I'll be back to pick you up," he promised.

I simply nodded, not sure what to say. He'd been acting so strangely since the little scuffle that we'd had earlier. I wasn't really sure what to say to him. I had revealed far too much, far more than I had been intending to tell him. He stooped down and pressed his lips against my cheek, but hit the corner of my mouth instead. I sat back startled, but Quil didn't seem to mind. He just smiled and waved and strode back to his car with a smile.

"You knew about this?" I accused my mother within minutes of walking through the door. She cocked her head to the side like she was completely innocent of whatever it was we were all shouting about. "Mom? You knew that Quil wanted to go to watch _The Phantom of the Opera _tonight?" She smiled at me sweetly. I squinted just a little bit more, barely able to contain the joy I was feeling. Quil had remembered everything that I'd ever asked him for. While I was still a little confused about where we at, after the kiss and the whole conversation.

"Let's see your tattoo," Mom said instead of answering me. She gently turned me around to look at my back and began tugging at my shirt until it was away from the tattoo site. "A bandage?" she exclaimed. A tiny growl escaped her lips. I smiled at her anyways and rolled my eyes. My mother rolled her eyes in return and sighed. "Once again, Quil gets to see everything first and be a part. It was like this with your first words and your first time swimming. Why not add your first tattoo to the list?" she muttered. I smiled at her. "Go shower."

I did as she asked and marched up the stairs to disappear into the bathroom. Two hours later, though, my mother was knocking on the door that joined my bathroom to my bedroom. "Claire? What are you doing in there?" I wasn't doing anything, quite honestly. I was staring at the little cut that marred my leg since I'd cut myself shaving. All I could think was that I wasn't going to be able to get through this damn night. I'd slipped in the shower while I was washing my hair. I'd cut myself shaving… twice… My hair, which was normally curly, but manageable, had decided to be completely unruly. I couldn't find the only lipstick that I liked in my collection and I had completely forgotten that I was out of brown eyeliner. "What's wrong?" my mother asked, stepping into the bathroom without my permission. I was still dressed in my towel, my armpits clenching the fabric around my form. "You're worrying again, aren't you?" she asked.

"I'm not worrying," I muttered scathingly. "I'm trying to figure out how I could get out of this. My leg is bleeding like a fountain. My hair is pouffier than a lion's mane. I don't have any of the makeup that I like. I'm going to look like a hooker in ninety percent humidity!"

"You're going to look fine, Claire," she promised me. "Come here." She turned me around and tucked my towel so that it was holding itself. She guided me towards the counter and motioned for me to sit on it like I had when I was a little kid. She took my ankle in her hand and twisted my leg to examine it in the light. "We'll make this better, Claire," she said.

That was what my life was like for the next few hours. There were some days that I actually thought I might be lost without my mother. The managed to clean up my cuts and cover them so that they weren't noticeable. She put her makeup on me so that I was wearing things that would actually look nice on me. There was some twisting and tugging and pulling and my unmanageable hair was pulled back into a mass of poof behind my back, swirling and curling down my back, flirting with the rise of my hips. "There," she declared, handing me a packet of panty house.

I stepped up and dressed myself, sliding the shimmering spandex up my legs. The skirt clung to my thighs, as was intended, I suppose. My mother handed me a pair of boots that were some four inches, easy to walk in, and fantastic with my outfit. "Their from your father and I," she said. "And Chance bought you a new purse," she said, reaching into the linen closet and pulling forth the bag. The formal clutch detached from the large bag, but was its own wallet and ID holder. "Obviously it won't work for tonight, but the clutch will work well."

She stood back and looked at me, her gaze traveling up and down my body. "I suppose Nana's necklace might be appropriate," she said, disappearing back into her bedroom for a brief moment. Nana's necklace hung on a silver chain and held the sign of the Makah tribe on it. Once she had it dangling around my neck to perfection, she turned to me and beamed. "There. I think that you are officially done," she declared. I hugged her close. "I know that we don't say this enough, Claire, but you really have grown into a lovely young woman."

She ushered me down the stairs and to the living room. Quil was standing in a pair of slacks and a dress shirt, the powder white fabric making his tan skin look even darker. I took the stairs one at a time, slightly afraid that I would break my ankle if I tried to go any faster. Quil turned slowly, like something out of one of those cheesy romance movies. Something that I had always wanted but never thought I would see. My father and brother joined him their rotation. I was more than a little satisfied when all three mouths gaped wide open in shock.

Quil was the first to break the spell. He shook his head as if to clear his head. He took a few steps closer to me and wrapped his hand around mine. I noticed that those four inches made me much higher than I would have thought possible. He brushed his lips across my cheek again, still closer to my lip than he should have been. "You look breathtaking, Claire." It was the nicest thing that I had ever heard anyone say to me before. He looked up at the rest of the family. "Should we get going? Our reservations are coming up," he said to them.

My mother took it upon herself to usher my brother and father into one car, leaving Quil and I alone in his car. He looked over at me every once in a while. "What?" I finally asked. I'd been dying to ask him since he'd started the habit earlier in the day. "What are you looking out?"

"I even knew what you were going to wear and I couldn't have imagined you looking this good," he admitted. "You're stunning, Claire." I noticed then that he hadn't called me Claire-Bear. It didn't even seem like he was putting in an effort to call me by my name instead of my nickname. He twisted my hand in his and deposited something in my palm. "Happy Birthday, Claire." It seemed silly that he was giving me a gift after the morning that we'd had. Still, I lifted the ribbon in the palm of my hand.

Like every other imprint, the leather band was woven together, five different strands brought together in a flat band. The beads were pink and purple and red. A bracelet, just like every single imprint got. "I wouldn't wear it tonight. Your look too nice to wear leather with your outfit. But I thought—" Before he could say another word, I was leaning over and tying the strands together at my ankle.

"Insult my bracelet," I muttered in a growl. He smiled and turned his attention back to the road. I put my foot up on the dashboard and looked at the thing from every angle possible. Every imprint had one of the bracelets and I now got to be a part of the club. The woven leather bands meant that everything was going to be okay. They signified the reality of a relationship coming.

…And I had a bracelet now.


	18. Chapter XVII

**I know that I've have been the worst about updating. I know. And I feel like crap about it. In my defense, my family is certifiably insane. I mean, they could take a mentally sane person and turn them into a paranoid schizophrenic in a matter of weeks. They drive me up a wall. Every single time that I think I can sit down and write, I get interrupted and pulled away from my work. So, I'm going to call tonight the OFFICIAL RELAUNCH of me, back onto FanFiction. My only hope is that I haven't lost too many follower's to my family's craziness. There will be SUNDAY CHAPTERS for the next two (possibly three) weeks while I get my life and updating back on track. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter XVII: ****_Quil's Point of View _**

I had made the bracelet for her suddenly seemed insignificant. I had given it to her because most of the other imprints in the Pack had been given the bracelets around their eighteenth birthday, going back as far as Ryanne. I figured that it would be something that she would appreciate. She knew what the bracelets meant, as far as an imprint's importance to a wolf. But looking at the bracelet now, after dropping her off, it seemed completely insignificant. It wasn't enough. The opera, the dinner, the shopping… None of it was enough.

I added as many beads and stones as I could without making it look tacky. I dressed in the nicest clothes that I owned and headed for the house. After being scolded for insulting the bracelet _I_ made, I gathered her into the car and started towards the city. I was trying desperately to show her that I wanted something more. She deserved something more. She'd always wanted more than just a friendship for life. I had known that. The question, however, remained. Was she truly ready for more, or did she just _think_ this was what she wanted?

She chattered on and on about things that had happened with her mother while I drove us into the city. It was nice to have to old Claire back, the one that talked about everything and nothing while I drove. She turned in her lovely outfit to face me, her leg tucked neatly underneath her while she tittered. "Quil, I am perfectly content with having McDonalds or something. We don't need to eat at the most expensive restaurant in the state." I wanted to frown at her, to tell her that she deserved the best that I could give her.

"You've always wanted to eat at this restaurant, Claire. Just because it's expensive doesn't mean it's unaffordable. If it was, the business wouldn't be able to stay open," I replied, pulling up to the valet service and handing the guy the keys. She mocked me in a quiet voice, but took my arm readily and stepped into place beside me. I know that it seemed sudden, my desire to be with her and love her like I hadn't before. But her hand in mine, her petite form pressed against me, her scent drifting into my nose… It all felt right.

She glided into the restaurant, like some angel that had been placed on this earth just for me. It dawned on me in that moment that I was more fortunate than all the other guys, except for maybe Ryanne and Jake. I had known my imprint her entire life. I'd watched her grow and change. I'd watched her become a young woman in front of my eyes, even if I hadn't realized it immediately. Everyone else heard the stories, _saw_ the people their imprints had become. But I had been there through every twist and turn in Claire's life.

Her parents were already in the restaurant waiting for us, her older brother sitting in his spot between his parents. Claire smiled at them and waved her fingers at them, her energy practically bouncing off of her. She waited for me to pull her seat out before sinking down into her chair. As was the norm in their family, Claire's father ordered for her mother, I ordered for my imprint, and Chance ordered for himself. Claire didn't even look at the menu; I'd already known what it was that she would want. The girl was predictable, steady as a stone.

"So, did you two have a good morning?" her father asked us after a few moments. I listened to my imprint's animated account of what we'd gone through, with the exception of the kiss that had nearly torn me from this Earth.

"I don't know what high people are talking about when they're talking about tattoos, but they're totally lying," she said then, her hands thrown up in front of her to better explain her story. "I never got a high. And it most definitely didn't get less painful. Especially when she'd gone over stuff already and then she started digging in."

Her mother shook her head and allowed a tremor to pass through her spine, horrified by what her daughter was telling her. Claire continued on, undaunted by her mother's disgust with the whole thing. Her eyes lit up as she talked about the secret that she'd kept for so long, how she'd been so careful about telling me anything that would relate to it so that I couldn't figure it out. I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't been shocked when her entire tattoo was all finished. The wolf that gazed out from her back _was_ me.

Chance and Claire chatted back and forth throughout dinner, not allowing for their parents or I to get a word in edgewise. That, of course, was the way that they'd been their entire lives, though. The two of them had conversations that no one could follow, but somehow they understood what the other was talking about. We ate in our routine fashion. Claire's father and I talked some. Her parents talked to each other, but ultimately the dinner conversation was dominated by Claire and Chance. I rose to go to the bathroom after the main course dishes had been cleared.

"Excuse me," I muttered to a passing waitress. "Over at that table of four," I pointed to Claire and the family. "It's actually her eighteenth birthday tonight. Do you guys have anything that —"

"I'll take care of it," she told me with a smile. I proceeded to the bathroom, just to keep up the guise that I'd had going. Claire would probably kill me for telling someone that it was her birthday, but it would all be worth it when her pretty, tan cheeks flamed like firetrucks. She'd smile and thank the people in that quiet voice of hers, the one she used when she was embarrassed.

I nodded to the same waitress when I was settled back at the table, having stood in the hallway by the bathrooms for an unnecessary amount of time. The woman and a few others came up to the table with a molten chocolate cake, as I'd hoped. Claire was a sucker for anything that had chocolate in it. We embarrassed the crap out of her by singing happy birthday in a restaurant filled with people, her face brighter than a house on fire. "That wasn't you, was it?" she demanded of me in a hushed whisper, cutting into the cake with her spoon. The waitress had been kind enough to bring two more cakes for the others at the table to eat. Claire had shoved her plate in between the two of us and was slowly beginning to eat at it. I smiled impishly at her. "How could you do this to me?" I just smiled at her again and took a swift bite of cake. "And here I was thinking that you had given me the best night." I swallowed another bite ad leaned in a little closer.

"Night's not over yet," I breathed.

Paying the check was something that I didn't even want to deal with. It was larger than I had expected and even with her parents covering half the bill, it was substantial. I didn't care, though. It was al worth it when she was smiling at me like I had just handed her the moon on a platter. I gave her a bright smile as I helped her up to her feet and into her jacket. "That restaurant was delicious," she whispered, her heels clacking against the cobblestone as we marched towards the theater. "It was so expensive, Quil."

"Don't start with that again, Claire," I warned her. I looked down at her ankle, watching the beaded leather glint in the lights. "It's your birthday." I pulled her to a stop so that I could look down at her. "I don't care if I have to rent out an entire house and hire help for the night. It's your eighteenth birthday and it needs to be special."

"Because having you take me out for a day and pay for everything I did wasn't enough," she replied. I rolled my eyes at her and continued towards the theater. She rested her head against my shoulder, her hand threaded through mine. "This has been the greatest day, Quil. I really couldn't imagine having a better day." If I had been able to say that I wanted to change things for the better now, I doubted that she would appreciate it at the moment. She would undoubtedly connect it to the kiss that we'd shared earlier.

"You keep talking like the day is over, silly," I whispered, pressing my lips against her scalp. "We've still got the opera to go to. Now, go say goodbye to your parents so that we can get going," I commanded. I watched her walk away, wrapping her arms around her parents. "I was stupid, Claire," I whispered to myself. She turned away from her parents and beamed. "Ready?"


	19. Chapter XVIII

**Author's Note: Look at that! Three chapters up in one day!? What is happening here? Anyways, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter XVIII**

I liked the feel of his hand around mine, like a warm blanket that had just come out of the dryer. There was something different about the way that he was holding my hand this night, though. It was possessive, like he thought that I would walk away from him if he didn't hold tight to me. I cocked my head to the side as we walked towards the theater. Maybe he'd just been waiting for me to turn eighteen. Everything seemed to be changing today. Of course, there was also the possibility that he was still proving his point.

The theater wasn't as packed as I thought it would be, but that only lasted until I looked at the clock. We were significantly early for the showing. "I thought that you'd like to go and look at the gift shop, so I thought we could come early," he explained, like he'd read my mind. I opened my mouth to tell him that he didn't need to do this, to buy me anything more, but he pressed forward. "It's your birthday. If you tell me not to buy you something, I'll buy you two. Are we clear?"

Knowing that he was completely serious, I nodded solemnly and followed him into the store. Quil purchased the mug that I'd been looking at, the soundtrack for the cast, a sweatshirt, and a pajama t-shirt for me. "You really didn't have to," I whispered as I stroked the downy soft fabric of the sweater.

"I know," he replied easily, guiding me towards the seats. I looked around like an avid child as we walked, noticing that he was leading us towards the center of the seating. Looking up above me, I noticed the exquisite chandelier that was glimmering in the lights above me.

I didn't even want to ask how much this must have cost him. I knew that tickets under the chandelier were the most expensive, because of the pivotal scene. I shivered as I wondered what my reaction was going to be. "Are you cold?" he asked me immediately. I shook my head. "What are you thinking about, then?" he pressed.

"The chandelier scene," I admitted, worried that he would offer to find a way to move us if I truly told him how afraid I was of it at the moment. It had to be safe… Right?

"What about it?" Quil asked. I tossed my head back and laughed, full throated and amused. Quil probably knew every word of the songs from the sheer number of times that I'd sung them. He knew the names of all the characters. Hell, he might even know the basic premise of the movie. But it dawned on me in that moment that he probably didn't know anything else about it. He'd been asleep most of the times that we'd watched the movie anyways.

"You'll see," I whispered. He shrugged and brought me to the center of the aisle.

I wondered how long he'd been planning this. Our seats were directly under the center of the chandelier, where it would come crashing down when the Phantom needed his distraction. Quil draped a possessive arm around my shoulders, the plastic bag still hanging from his leg bounced up and down nervously, while I anticipated the beginning of the play. The people began filing in, the number of them intimidating me. They were all dressed so much more elegantly than I was. In fact, Quil and I looked like homeless people compared to the rest of them.

The lights began to dim. The overture began playing, loud and ominous. I cuddled unreservedly into his side. He threaded our fingers together, not paying the slightest attention to the play that was beginning around us. There were giggles from the entire crowd when the actress who was playing Carlotta began singing her ridiculous, high pitched version of _Think of Me_. Ultimately, the girl who was playing Christine stepped forward and took over. I mouthed along to every word, wishing that I could have a love like that. Or at least a love that didn't think that he had a point to prove.

When Christine began explaining who Raoul was, the story of the house by the sea, Quil finally leaned over. "I have no idea what's going on," he admitted. I laughed, sure that he had been paying more attention to the half naked women that had been dancing on stage. "Why is his hair so long?" he asked then, barely stifling his laughter.

"It was the style back then," I replied just as softly. "Raoul and Christine grew up together, before her father passed away. He's a viscount now, and a financial sponsor of the theatre. But he just walked by her and didn't see her. It's been too long since he's seen her. He doesn't even recognize her since she's grown up now." He nodded contemplatively and turned his attention back to the show. The actress Christine disappeared behind some smoke screen while the music swelled around her. "_Can it be? Can it be Christine?_" I mumbled alongside the actor who was playing Raoul. Quil bumped into me playfully and smiled again. I hummed while they talked.

By the time intermission came around, I was only impressed that Quil hadn't fallen asleep. "I'll be right back," I whispered. "I need to go to the ladies room."

To my shock, Quil actually shook his head. "I can walk you over there, but I'm not letting you go by yourself." It was on the tip of my tongue to tease him about be overprotective, but the look on his face was too serious and too worried. "Charlie was taken from here by that vampire that one day, remember?" I had forgotten about that. It had happened when I was so young. "I couldn't live with myself if something like that happened to you again, Claire." I sighed and nodded.

By the time the chandelier scene came around, I'd told myself that i was more than prepared for it. The actors were fantastic, so engrossing that it wasn't like I was watching it play. No; it was like I was there, living it. I felt the anxiety, the passion, the desire. The Phantom frantically looked around for a way to get out, a way to escape. Even when I saw his saber come out to cut the rope that was visible on the stage, I couldn't prepare myself for what I _knew_ was about to come.

There was the strange sound of rope running through it's braces when the chandelier began to lower. Everyone around me began to move as well, the screams realistic. We all knew that the chandelier would have to come to a stop before it hit us. The theaters couldn't possibly have that many people suing them for injuries. Of course… Quil didn't know that. His growl resonated off the walls of the theatre, at least in my ears it did. He pulled me down so that I was lying in his lap. He curved his back over me so that when the chandelier did come crashing down on the two of us.

The lights went out throughout the play area while the players and the hands reset everything. All of us that were trapped underneath the now low hanging chandelier waited impatiently for it to be removed. It was only ten inches from the top of Quil's head. He was breathing hard, his muscles rigid as if he was braced for the worst impact. "Quil," I whispered, pressing my hand against his thigh. "Quil," I repeated a few moments later. I watched and felt the people are us beginning to sit up. "Quil!"

"What?" he parked.

"Sit up. You're crushing me." I watched him sit up and look around. With his enhanced vision, he was probably able to look up and see the cables that had protected us from being crushing wound back up to set the chandelier in its original position. "See? There was no danger. It's part of the play."

"_This_ is the chandelier scene you were talking about?" he asked me, his voice reeking of disbelief. I nodded. "And you didn't think that would be a good thing to tell me? I mean, Jesus, Claire. I fought one of us was going to die!" Probably him.

"I thought that you paid more attention every time that we watched the movie," I replied with a touch of sarcasm to my voice. "Now, finish watching the play. It's much more interesting than yelling at me for forgetting to tell you the best part of this entire play." He was still staring at me, his eyes narrowed. I tried to turn my attention back to the play, but it was difficult with his eyes burning into me. I felt my cheeks flame. "Quil, stop staring and watch the play," I commanded.

His voice was soft when he leaned in. "I think I'd rather watch you."


	20. Chapter XIX

**Author's Note: I know that I have quite literally disappeared from the site for the last month. To say that my family is crazy and very time-consuming would be an understatement. But I am happy to report that I am back in Wyoming, starting a new semester, and most importantly: back to writing. I can't apologize enough for the lack of posts in the last month. As atonement, I will be post chapters as frequently as possible (regardless of my regular schedule) and there will be SUNDAY CHAPTERS for the next few weeks. All that being said, I sincerely apologize for breaking my promises. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter XIX**

For the remainder of the play, I tried desperately to focus on the play, but I was failing. Even I knew that I was failing, though. His last sentence had been a total puzzle to me. For so long, he'd been ignoring me and treating me like a child. But tonight… Today… Everything seemed to be changing and it was changing far faster than I had been expecting. His thumb drew lazy circles on the soft skin of my wrist, focusing on me the entire time. I could feel his eyes on my skin, gazing at me.

"What are you staring at?" I finally hissed at him. His lips curved in a sweet smile before he leaned over. His lips brushed against my cartilage, that smile somehow managing to transfer to me.

"I was staring at you," he said bluntly. While I was still looking at him, trying to decipher that smile on his lips and the new sparkle in his eyes, he rose. Trapping my hand in his, he pulled me up with him. The dimmed lights in the theater brightened. I turned to look at the stage to find the tombstone lit up by a single light, the red rose gleaming against it. I was still trying to decide when my favorite play had actually ended. I remembered listening to the major ending song, but I couldn't remember the piece actually coming to an end. Our arms were linked together like the couples of old while the two of us clapped. I rested my head against his shoulder as the performers finished their bows. "So," he drawled while we waited. The actress who'd played Christine came out and sang _Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again. _Eventually, she was joined by Raoul to sing _All I Ask of You_. After another round of applause, the play was officially finished. "So," he began again, his impatience growing. "Did you enjoy the play?"

"I did," I replied simply. He leveled me with a look that said he didn't think that response was enough. "It was absolutely fantastic," I elaborated, scrubbing my cheek against his shoulder. "Thank you,Quil. I couldn't have imagined a more perfect birthday celebration if I had tried." He was smiling, beaming, grinning. There was no real way to describe how pleased with himself he looked. "Is there nothing else left on our list?" I asked.

"Just a quiet drive home," he said. Our fingers were twined together, like they had always been together. Like they were meant to be together. "Although, I'm open to listening to you sing along to the radio for the entire drive." I rolled my eyes at him as we started moving through the row to reach the pathways. "Have I mentioned how cruel and unusual that was?" I eyed him quizzically. "You should have told me that the chandelier was going to come crashing down on top of the two of us. I thought something went wrong."

"You couldn't see the wires? I mean, even I could see them," I retorted, more than a little pleased that he hadn't seen something for once in his life.

"I wasn't _looking _for them, you little brat." I smiled at a name that shouldn't have been a term of endearment. "You, on the other hand, knew that it was happening. Which means that you knew that there were wires and you were looking for them." I licked my lips and tried to appear innocent looking. "Brat," he added on, probably for good measure. Our hands swung in between the two of us while we marched towards the street where we had parked the car.

We were only a few feet away from the vehicle when Quil pulled me to a stop. "What?" I asked. The fire that was in his eyes was burning, unlike anything that I had ever seen before. "Quil?" He hadn't answered me. I tugged a little on his hand. "What's that, boy? Little Timmy fell down a well?" I teased. He frowned and growled at me rudely. I giggled at the expression on his face. "What's wrong? You just kind of… Stopped."

He cocked his head to the side and looked at me like he was trying to decide what his next move should be. I returned the motion, waiting for something from him. He stepped closer, crowding me more and more towards the car. It wasn't very long until I found my back flush with exterior of the car, the cold metal causing goosebumps to ripple up my spine. Quil was leaning over me, our chests were flush to one another. I thought I might lose my mind from the tension that was rolling off of him. He released my hand and placed both of his on either side of my head.

I'm sure that I looked like a fish. My mouth hung open, my breathing harsh. You could see each exhale as it turned to fogged steam in between us. Quil was biting his lip, his eyes narrowed. He was speculative, contemplative. What he wasn't was communicative. "Quil," I tried to breathe. My tongue seemed to weigh a million pounds. My saliva had turned to sand. My chest was heaving as he lowered his mouth. His breath fanned out over my face. "Quil," I tried again. He wasn't stopping.

There was something different about this moment. Earlier, I had been shouting about the fact that he didn't see me as an adult. His nose brushed against mine. The anticipation was killing me, especially as it mingled with the fear. I had no guarantee that he wasn't still trying to prove his point. But… But his eyes were burning with something that I had never seen. He lowered his mouth to mine then, his lips taking mine. I gasped, my mouth opening as I tried to get a full breath of air. My hands lifted to his chest, without my permission.

His heart beat hard and fast against my palm. His hands were still on either side of my head, braced against the car. He was leaning over me, completely looming. If it was anything _but_ the moment that I was living in, I would have felt the intimidation down to my bones. But now—now, with his shoulders and frame curved around me, with his lips mashed up against mine, with his tongue warring for dominance with mine…

Perhaps he wasn't just trying to prove a point. This felt so…real. This kiss, this moment, the emotions that were burning through me, all felt authentic.

I twisted my hands in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. We danced. There was no better way to describe it. Our mouths moved in a synchronicity that could only be described as fate. He was mine. I'd claimed him as mine when I was but a toddler. But now, I wasn't a child. I wasn't a kid. I was a young woman. I was _a _woman. I could have him, now. I could take him. I wasn't going to lose him. I wasn't going to let him go. I was going to have to make this clear to him, too.

That would be the hard part.

Before I was fully ready, Quil pulled away. I chased the kiss. I chased the emotions and realities that were lingering behind it. I chased the _future_ that I so desperately wanted to have. He was panting, like a normal person would if they'd been running a marathon. Knowing that _I _could make him feel that way, that I could reduce him to panting was incredible. His forehead was pressed hard against mine, like he was afraid to break the connection that we had.

I kept my hands lying on his chest, holding tight to the fabric. "I've been waiting to do that _all _day," he breathed. I opened my eyes to find him smiling at me, but his eyelids hiding the black orbs that I so desperately that I wanted to see. He looked serene, happy. Like this was _truly_ what he'd been wanting to do. He sighed heavily, his lips curved with a smile. I reached up a brushed his hair away from his forehead. "Please don't tell me that you think I'm proving something to you, Claire." His voice sounded so strangled, like the thought of it actually pained him.

"What else would you be doing?" I asked him, needing to hear him say the words. He needed to say the words. I needed to hear the words. "What other reason would we have for that?" I was panting still, my heart still racing. "You have to understand, Quil —"

Before I could finish the statement, he swooped in and kissed me again. There was something more possessive about this kiss. He dropped his hands to my shoulders, his fingers gripping roughly. He pulled away after only a brief moment. "I was wrong, Claire. I was fighting to give you a choice and I was taking it away from you."

"What?" I asked, dazed, feeling like I was going to faint or sob. I wasn't sure which.

"I was wrong," he repeated.


End file.
